Arthur's Funny Story
by Mandelene
Summary: At whit's end with his depression, Arthur goes to a local hospital's psychiatric facility. Obviously, he gets more than bargained for when he meets Gilbert the schizophrenic and Ivan the misanthrope across the hall. Somehow, he hopes to find meaning in life again, and a certain roommate might be able to help. Based on "It's Kind of a Funny Story" by Ned Vizzini. T for potty talk.
1. Sunday I

**Author's Note: Please read and leave a review. :) Thanks in advance!**

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_Sunday, 5:00 A.M._

Arthur had woken up in a cold sweat, eyes darting around every corner of the room as though something was sneakily lurking amongst the shadows. The blanket around his waist fell to the floor as his chest heaved with painful, labored breaths. This was his nightly ritual; being tormented by nightmares in which his parents made constant reappearances, chiding him for his unwillingness to choose a practical career path as he shivered on the sidewalks of New York City, begging for someone to give him a small sum of money so that he could buy some food.

And then, he'd always wake up, realizing that he wasn't_ actually_ homeless. It was always all just a bad dream, though he couldn't shake the feeling of having failed as a writer; failed to bring any meaning to his life, and now, he was slowly dying in the shithole of an apartment he had been forced to inhabit.

At the time, he hadn't been able to take it any longer; no matter what miracle drugs he had taken , no matter how many counseling sessions he'd gone to, or support groups, _nothing_ was helping.

And for the first time in a while, he hadn't just considered the idea of jumping off a bridge; he had wanted to actually _do_ it.

Truth be told, he was scaring himself. He wanted to just shrug away his moment of weakness as one segment of his mind argued with him to be rational. He didn't have to end it like this. Part of him believed he could still fix this somehow; organize it in a way that could keep things in tact. The other half of his brain was telling him that he'd fought hard enough. He deserved to be cut some slack. He shouldn't have had to put up with it any longer.

Thankfully, the rational side was trumping the irrational. With trembling fingers, he picked up his cellphone, wondering whether he should call 911 or not. Surely, they'd be able to help him at a hospital. They would give him more anti-depressants; anything to make the frightening thoughts stop.

Still torn, he'd gotten up, pulled on some slacks and a button-up shirt, grabbed his keys, and made his way out the door. His hands were still convulsing by his sides as he walked down the streets of downtown New York to get to the Brooklyn Bridge. It was a quick walk and he kept himself sane by stuffing his hands in his pockets and allowing the sounds of the city to consume him.

He had been, literally, only about three or four blocks away from reaching the start of the bridge when he had passed by a familiar hospital, adjacent the university he used to go to when he had decided to major in literature. Then, his legs carried him on their own accord, and before he had realized it, he'd pushed open the doors to the emergency room, walking up to the clerk quite confidently considering the circumstances. The woman behind the desk had muttered a few things into a telephone before hanging up and looking up to face him.

"How can I help you, sir?" she buzzed in the dullest tone he had ever had to endure.

He considered the question thoughtfully for a moment. What was he supposed to tell her? He needed some anti-depressants, stat? He'd sound too desperate for a quick fix, and she would've mistaken him for some sort of addict.

After a long pause, he'd finally said rather awkwardly, "I—I want to kill myself."

The woman blinked at him for a moment, and he felt awfully uncomfortable under her gaze, feeling utterly mental (which, technically, he was).

But she remained as apathetic as ever before handing him a clipboard accompanied with a stack of papers, as well as a pen. "Fill these out, please," she drawled, casting her sight back to the computer keyboard at the desk. Her 'please' had obviously been rehearsed.

He scowled. _Bloody American healthcare. Absolutely atrocious. _

He took the papers from her anyway, taking a seat in the waiting room as he scribbled his name on the top page and filled out his basic medical information. It had seemed like hours before he had actually completed the forms and handed them back to the receptionist without any further comment before returning to his seat to wait for his name to be called.

Then, unexpectedly, a young man plopped down next to him, no older than seventeen years old, with a small cup of coffee at hand. "Hey, how're you doing?" he acknowledged Arthur with twinkling blue eyes, dressed in a pair of dark green scrubs. He swished the coffee cup absently as he spoke, blowing air on the surface of the hot liquid.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows and offered the boy a churlish nod before turning his head away in the other direction, pretending to seem interested in the television that was displaying the weekly weather forecast.

The teenager didn't seem to want to let him off the hook just yet. He turned back to Arthur with a raised eyebrow, trying to look charming as he flashed a brilliant smile. "Have you got a cigarette?" he asked rather bluntly, sniffing the crisp, hospital air.

Arthur sighed heavily. Why was such a young boy smoking in the first place? "No," he firmly announced, crossing his arms protectively across his chest. Even while in the hospital, someone had the nerve to nag him.

The teen tilted his head to the side, a calculating look flitting across his features as he considered Arthur. "What's wrong with you?" he interrogated persistently, taking a long, gurgling sip of his coffee before gulping the substance down.

Arthur scowled at the boy with a scoff. "I just don't smoke."

The teen smiled at the comment, face lighting up with amusement. "No, I mean, why are you in an ER, at five o'clock, on a Sunday morning?"

Arthur's ever-present-frown deepened. "I don't really think that's any of your business… Are you a medical student or something?" he added as an afterthought, scanning the boy's scrubs for an ID tag to no avail.

The blue-eyed teen smirked coyly before standing up from his chair beside Arthur, evading his question. He took the final sip of his coffee and tossed the empty cup into the nearest garbage can. "Well, I hope they fix whatever's wrong with you." And with that, he shimmied his way across the waiting room, snapping his fingers rhythmically as he disappeared beyond some doorway.

Arthur shook his head, willing himself to forget everything that had just happened. There was no reason to allow his thoughts to linger over some foolish, and obviously loopy, teenager. There were all types of nut jobs in the city, young and old.

Yet, apparently, emergency rooms in New York didn't take you seriously unless you were in cardiac or respiratory arrest. This revelation came upon Arthur after having sat around for nearly two hours, dozing fitfully in his chair for a bit before his name was finally called.

"Arthur Kirkland?"

He jumped up in the plastic seat, bolting through the door that a kind-looking nurse had ushered him toward. He followed her into a small room where she took his temperature and blood pressure before securing a hospital bracelet with his name around his wrist.

He felt sick to the bone as he regarded the label that has been plastered upon him. He was just another number in the system; a hopeless case among many other hopeless cases. Yet, he had no room to complain and no choice other than to comply after waiting around for such a long period of time. Honestly, he was surprised he hadn't just reconsidered throwing himself off the Brooklyn Bridge during all of his dawdling.

Finally, the nurse guided him down the hallway and into another 'room' separated by a thin curtain down the middle. He took a seat on the bed, only to be told that he'd have to do some more waiting around until the doctor would arrive. He grudgingly lied down, deciding that he may as well allow himself a short nap until he was given some actual medical attention. He sprawled out on the bed, sighing heavily as a warm feeling settled into his chest. He noted that he was suddenly proud of himself; proud because he felt safer in the hospital than he would have in his living room. He still didn't know if he had made the right decision or not, per se, but he certainly felt quite a bit better knowing that he was surrounded by supposed professionals.

The doctor arrived no sooner than thirty minutes later, a bright smile on his face as he introduced himself.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Carriedo. What seems to be the problem today, Mr. Kirkland?" he asked cheerfully, readjusting his stethoscope around his neck as his eyes roamed over Arthur's figure.

"I… I've been having suicidal thoughts. I wanted to kill myself this morning," Arthur replied rather courageously, suddenly no longer embarrassed to admit his predicament, not in front of a doctor, at least.

"Hmm," Dr. Carriedo frowned, jotting something on his clipboard. "Alright then, Mr. Kirkland. I'm going to have to ask you a few questions while I give you a quick examination and check your vital signs. Standard procedure, I'm afraid."

Arthur nodded in comprehension before the doctor checked his breathing and heart rate.

"How long have you been feeling depressed?" he began his questioning gently, continuing to take notes on his clipboard.

"About two years now," Arthur muttered softly, his thoughts trailing to all the dangerous moods he'd been in time and time again. "I've considered what it would be like to kill myself before, but never actually wanted to do it so fervently."

"Did anything specific happen today that might have triggered your symptoms?"

"Nightmares, I suppose. Nightmares about failing to achieve things," Arthur clarified, twiddling with his hands as he waited for the next question.

"Are you on any medications?"

"Prozac," Arthur spoke before he could second guess himself, eyes following the doctor's movements. It wouldn't be in his best interest to lie. He'd have to spill his secrets if he was determined to get help. "But… I—I stopped."

He had admitted to his faults. Step one: complete.

"Did your doctor take you off the medication?"

Arthur flushed in shame. It had been partially his fault that he'd been feeling so miserable as of late. He'd stopped taking his prescribed medication because he felt like it wasn't helping. Besides, he was afraid that the pills were the things that were causing the suicidal thoughts. He didn't want to take the risk, but not taking the meds was probably raising an even greater risk. Thus, he'd ended up in a place like this. "No," he let out a weary sigh, "I just stopped on my own."

Dr. Carriedo tsked with a disapproving look. "You shouldn't do that, but Mr. Kirkland, I don't think you are a danger to yourself. I think we should just schedule you an appointment with our outpatient services."

Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat, sweat beading on his forehead. He couldn't go home. He would hurt himself. He didn't want to trust himself to be alone any longer. He needed help, and he needed it _now_. God damn it, he was done waiting for effective treatment. "You d-don't understand. I need to stay here. I need help, please. If I go back home I might do something I'll regret," he advanced, sitting up more stiffly.

"It's natural to be upset at a time like this, Mr. Kirkland, but the patients that we admit into this hospital are _very_ sick," the doctor emphasized, patting Arthur's shoulder reassuringly. "You're next course of action would be to speak with your usual doctor to find a new medication regimen. I don't think it'll be necessary to—"

"I'm sick as well," Arthur countered, hands trembling more pronouncedly in his lap. "You're a doctor; you're supposed to help me. Please."

It was Dr. Carriedo's turn to sigh. He smiled warmly at Arthur and gave him a thoughtful look once more before saying, "Alright, Mr. Kirkland. If you insist, we'll have you admitted immediately." He signed his name on the bottom of the admittance form and stowed the pen back into his pocket. "You'll be transferred shortly. You can relax until then."

_Relax? Yeah, right. _

"R-Right," Arthur stammered, rubbing his clammy hands against his pants, still unsure of himself. He supposed anything was better than heading back home. He was safe here. He was going to get help. He was going to be _okay_.

This time, the wait had been just as grueling as before. It was another, good hour until a nurse entered his curtained room, guiding him down the white walled corridor and into an elevator. They arrived to a similar looking floor, though it was much roomier and less crowded with people. A large set of doors read 'Six North'. The nurse rang a buzzer before the doors were unlocked and he was led into a cubicle before taking a seat before the nurse, who had moved to a spot by the computer. She shuffled through a few folders and handed Arthur a thin sheet of paper. However, the man was more preoccupied with gazing at the locked doors they had just entered through. This was it; he was officially out of his mind and locked in a psychiatric ward. It had all come down to this.

"Welcome to Six North here at Spruce Street Medical Center, Arthur," the nurse chimed cheerfully. Arthur took the sheet of paper she had been holding out to him uncertainly, not bothering to read it just yet.

"Erm—I'm sorry, but what exactly is 'Six North'?" he queried in a hushed tone, overwhelmed by the sights, sounds and bright lights.

"Our adult psychiatric ward," the nurse patiently replied, her smile unwavering. She pointed down to the paper she had given Arthur. "That's the schedule. Starting tomorrow, you are expected to follow it. That means you'll have to participate in group activities, show up to meals on time, and so on. In the meantime, is there anyone we can contact to bring over some toiletries or change of clothes that you may need? We can provide them for you, but I think it's always better to have your own possessions with you. It might make you feel more at home, don't you think?"

Arthur skimmed the schedule half-heartedly. He didn't think any of his co-workers from the office would be willing to help him out. After all, he didn't have any 'close' friends. Still, he supposed it would be better to have some of his things with him. Hesitantly, he tried to come up with a plausible excuse.

"Ah, yes," he coughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't think I'll be staying that long… I have work tomorrow and—"

"You'll have to discuss that with Dr. Ludwig," the nurse interjected, smile faltering. "Until that's sorted out. Anyone we can contact? Anyone at all?"

Arthur choked back a groan. There was _someone_. His crazy, perverted neighbor would definitely be here as soon as possible, but he really didn't want _him_ showing up. He'd probably just make the situation a thousand times more humiliating.

"F-Francis Bonnefoy, I can give you his phone number," Arthur offered with a grumble. He was going to regret doing this. He should've just jumped off of the fucking bridge, but no, he'd had to chicken out. As usual, everything he attempted to do was half-baked and half-assed.

Still, he gave the nurse the number wordlessly, letting out a long sigh after that was over with and the nurse had called the unwanted, but inevitable, visitor.

"Now," the nurse continued pleasantly, "do you have any sharp objects on you? Pocket knife or keys?"

Arthur nodded, handing over his keys without complaint.

"Great, and I'll also need your belt and shoelaces," she informed, pointing down to his leather shoes.

Arthur gaped at her, eyes wide at the request. "M-My shoelaces?" he spluttered, unable to fathom how someone could manage to hang themselves in such a brutal way.

The nurse merely let out a lofty giggle, enthused by his horrified reaction. "We can't take any chances, hmm?"

Arthur shook his head disbelievingly, but removed his shoelaces and belt nonetheless, passing them over to the nurse. He took the opportunity to read her first name on her ID tag; Elizabeta.

Just then, a rather tall man with strikingly blond hair and pale blue eyes rolled through the hallway, stopping by the nurses station. Elizabeta stood up and walked over to him. Arthur assumed he was a doctor, seeing as he was clad in a white coat.

"Dr. Ludwig," Elizabeta called after him, standing by his side. "This is our new patient, Arthur Kirkland."

Ludwig peered down at Arthur's slightly shorter stature, staring at him as though he were some sort of science experiment. Arthur's green eyes broke away from the intense gaze, uncomfortable with the man's demeanor. Dr. Carriedo had been much more… welcoming than this.

"It's very nice to meet you Arthur. How are you?" the doctor finally greeted, shaking Arthur's hand firmly.

"Likewise. I'm… I've been better," Arthur managed to reply, eyes downcast.

"Hmm, I see. Well, why don't you get settled and we'll talk later?" Dr. Ludwig smiled, though it looked very awkward and forced. The gesture seemed very out of place on the man's face.

Arthur nodded in return, not trusting himself to speak more than the basic sentences his mind could handle. Dr. Ludwig disappeared around the corner, leaving him alone with Elizabeta again. The woman called Arthur over, brushing back her long hair single-handedly and strolling down the seemingly endless hallway with him.

On Arthur's right side, a man with red eyes and grayish-white hair shouted, "I'm awesome!"

"Hello, Gilbert," Elizabeta told the man calmly before casually continuing on her way.

Arthur shuddered, surprised by the booming remark. "What was that about?" he asked the nurse.

"Gilbert?" she raised an eyebrow in question. "He's schizophrenic."

Arthur batted his eyes for a couple of seconds, trying to allow everything to sink in. "Is there a place here for people more like myself?"

Elizabeta's smile returned in full force. "We've got all kinds of patients here, Arthur. All kinds… Hey—Where do you think you're going, young man?" she broke the conversation and turned to another person who Arthur couldn't get a proper glimpse of because he was trying to hide himself behind a lone wheelchair.

"Are you aware that you missed a group session yesterday? Alfred, if you want to get out of here, you'd better start cooperating and that means _participating_ as well," Elizabeta chided the crouched figure.

'Alfred' stood up from his poor hiding spot to face the nurse's wrath, casting her a beaming grin.

_Wait a second. Arthur knew that smile. He was the same boy from the ER. _

"I know, Lizzie. Don't get your panties in a twist. I wasn't feeling well, okay?"

"Liar," Elizabeta accused. "As retribution, you can give our new friend, Arthur, a tour of the place."

Alfred's sky-blue eyes fell upon Arthur with a stunned expression. He was docile for a moment before breaking into another toothy grin, eyes growing squinty from the effort. "Sure thing, sweet cheeks."

"Don't ever call me that again," Elizabeta mumbled warningly before stepping back. "I'll see you later, Arthur. Alfred will help you navigate around while we fix up your room."

Arthur nodded, watching the nurse's retreat before shooting a glare in Alfred's direction. The young boy ignored the look, sauntering down the remainder of the hallway. Arthur lagged behind, jogging the rest of the distance to join him.

"So," Alfred began in an excited tone, entering an open area that resembled a sitting room. "This is where we hang out. There's a record player and stuff… All the records are scratched," he sulked. "Some guys play table tennis. Did they tell you about the 'point' system?"

Arthur furrowed, already lost. There were a million other thoughts zipping through his mind right now. "Points for ping-pong?"

"I think the name ping-pong trivializes the sport," Alfred huffed, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "I meant points for privileges and… y'know, never mind. Nobody keeps track anyway."

Arthur let his eyes wander around the area. There were a few people conversing by some tables, and a particularly old fellow was standing by the ping-pong table.

"You can join him if you like," Alfred droned playfully, referring to the lonely, wrinkly man with a terribly vacant expression.

"I'd rather not," Arthur grimaced, turning away from Alfred and heading in the opposite direction. He'd had enough of the boy's banter for now.

"Hey, we're not done yet, pops," Alfred chased him down, trying to gain his focus again. Apparently, he was used to being the center of attention. He ran to a door just a few yards away, pointing to a plastic sign. "This is the shower. It doesn't have a lock. Hell, the only locks in this place are at the exits. Anyway, when you go in, you have to flip this sign to 'in use'. Get it?" he stated importantly, flipping the sign a few times as an example.

Arthur chose not to reply and remained bitter. He was _not_ staying here for that long. He just needed some new meds and he'd be out.

"Hey, are you even listening to me? Look, this is important stuff, dude. I'm warning you beforehand so that no one walks in on you when you're scrubbing your balls. Actually, people are gonna walk in on you anyway. No one gives a shit in this place about privacy, let alone your balls," Alfred lazily mentioned, leaning against the door to the shower. "There's another one on the other side of the hall, but I wouldn't use that one if I were you. It'll bother Ivan."

"Who's Ivan?" Arthur asked out of sheer curiosity, unable to stop himself.

Alfred ignored him yet again, purposefully being ambiguous. He paraded his way to a phone hanging on the wall. "You can call people from here; since they're gonna take away your cellphone when they search your stuff later. Then again, you're so old you probably don't even know what a cellphone is."

_Cheeky brat._

Arthur ignored the scathing comment. He would not stoop to the teen's level. "What are you even doing in an _adult _psychiatric ward? You're just a child."

"No, I'm _sixteen_," Alfred emphasized with a roll of the eyes. "The teen floor is under renovation, so I'm stuck here until further notice. Anyway, over there is the TV room," he murmured, pointing to a glass panel with a door on the side.

Arthur wasn't surrendering his opportunity at an interrogation that easily. "You're a _patient_? What were you doing in the emergency room? How did you even get out?"

"Hush," Alfred shushed him mildly. "ER has got the best coffee, dude. I get around pretty well; gotta be stealthy."

"Don't call me 'dude'," Arthur growled, though intrigued. "I'm not one of your high school friends. God, you're young. What are you in here for?"

Alfred's eyes narrowed, cocky smile dissipating. He became very serious, shooting Arthur a wary look. "Let's go see if Lizzie's got your room ready."

Arthur glowered, feeling slightly guilty. He shouldn't have tried to pry in the boy's personal matters. It served him well for his previous impudence, he supposed. He soundlessly followed Alfred back to the nurses' station.

"Lizzie! Come on, babe. We're dying over here. Is the room clean yet?" the teenager griped, but didn't miss a beat in taking the chance to shoot Elizabeta a captivating smirk.

"Good things come to those who have patience, Alfred. Yes, it's ready," she affirmed softly before twisting her neck to face Arthur. "You'll be staying in B12, dear. Why don't you go on and have a look?"

Arthur didn't get a chance to respond before he felt himself being yanked forward by Alfred, who was sprinting down the hall with a certain bounce in his steps. They rounded a corner and soon came to a screeching halt, causing Arthur to bump into Alfred involuntarily. He didn't apologize for the contact, considering it was the teen's fault they'd gotten into such a state in the first place.

"Welcome to B12," Alfred whirled around and spoke animatedly. "It's also known as the best room on the floor," he flaunted.

Arthur surveyed his new 'cell'. It looked much more homely than it had any right to be, apart from the straps and restraints that were tied to the sides of the bed, should they be needed. Speaking of beds…

"Why are there two beds in here?" Arthur inquired, watching as Alfred pranced forward and hopped onto the bed at the end of the room.

The boy simpered, face cracking in appeasement. "That's because we're roommates from now on! Ain't it great? Man, I've been getting kinda lonely here since Gupta left."

Arthur's face fell, throat constricting before running dangerously dry. He didn't care to learn who 'Gupta' was. "R-Roommates?"

"Yup!" Alfred cheered, lying down and stretching his legs out. "Oh yeah, lunch is in five minutes if you're hungry."

"E-Excuse me for a moment," Arthur murmured before rushing out of the room, searching for Elizabeta so that he could explain to her that this was all just some huge misunderstanding. He hadn't wanted to _stay_ for more than a day. He wasn't planning on sticking around. He just needed—… Well, he didn't exactly know what he needed anymore.

Fortunately, he practically ran into Dr. Ludwig on his desperate scavenger hunt.

"Arthur, is everything alright?"

Arthur swallowed heavily, biting back his fear. "I'm feeling better now," he claimed, hating how his words were quivering against his tongue. "I was feeling…unwell this morning, but I'm fine now. Is there any way I'd be able to go home, preferably now?"

Ludwig considered Arthur carefully, lifting up a clipboard and shifting through the accompanied pages. "It says here you've been having suicidal thoughts and requested to be admitted."

Arthur let out a nervous laugh. "Yes, well, I had thought that I'd just receive some medication and be on my way. I didn't expect to stay. So, you see, this is all just a big mistake. I've realized that I don't belong here."

"Well, we cannot force you to stay, but you should give it some time. Your views might change. I understand that your situation is overwhelming at the moment," Ludwig offered calmly, but his tone was sharp. "You signed the consent form for treatment," he reminded.

"I understand that, but how long will I have to stay?"

"Five days minimum; no more than thirty. We'll have an evaluation on Thursday to decide if you are ready to leave," Dr. Ludwig pronounced, setting the clipboard down on the counter of the nurses' station.

"F-Five days? I have work! I can't… I don't…" Arthur gasped, suddenly feeling very weak and frail.

"ARTHUR?" A frantic voice bellowed from down the hall.

Said man swiveled around to meet the voice, eyes falling upon Francis, who was barreling toward him. Dr. Ludwig gave a curt nod and walked away, leaving Arthur alone with his oddly concerned neighbor.

"I came as soon as I heard the news, mon cher," Francis uttered, embracing Arthur into a tight hug.

"Ugh, get away from me, you frog!" Arthur snarled, wrenching himself away from the entrapment.

"I always knew you were a little stuffy, but I never would've thought you were suicidal!" Francis rambled on, ignoring Arthur's attempts at formulating unhappy retorts. "But do not worry, mon lapin, when you return home, I will visit every day to take care of you."

"Please, that's hardly necessary," Arthur breathed, wishing Ludwig hadn't left. "Besides, I don't think I'll be staying."

Francis chuckled, "Of course you'll be staying. You need help. There is no reason to leave so soon. There are plenty of new companions you can make here! Look over there!" he pointed his head to a spot behind Arthur. The confused man followed his gaze to a man who was wearing a pink skirt and a frilly white tank top. "You can make friends with the _transvesti_," Francis roared with laughter, swiping at his watery eyes.

"It's not funny. You shouldn't be making fun of the patients. Go away, Francis. I might just have to stay here in order to avoid your presence back at the apartment," Arthur spat venomously.

"Oh, don't be so rude, ma chérie. After all, that is no way to thank the friend who went to the trouble of bringing you your clothes," Francis finished in a sing-song tone of voice.

"Clothes? You broke into my apartment _again_?" Arthur fumed, snatching the duffel bag away from the Frenchman.

"It was necessary, no?" Francis smirked, bidding his neighbor farewell with a wave of the hand. "Don't worry, I'll visit again." Then, in a very serious tone of voice that was uncharacteristic of the man, he said, "Get well soon, Arthur. I'll call the office for you. Rest and _relax_," he punctuated, walking off. However, he still managed to shoot an air kiss in the direction of Elizabeta before fully exiting.

Arthur sighed, duffel bag hanging by his side in a limp arm. That was that then. The decision had been made for him. He'd be staying at least until Thursday. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a small groan before reluctantly heading back to B12.

Unfortunately, Alfred had not left to go to lunch, but had fallen asleep in bed, one arm hanging off the side of the mattress lazily. Arthur supposed the occurrence was normal, considering the boy had been wandering the emergency room at five in the morning. In fact, Arthur could do with a nap himself.

Tossing his duffel bag aside and picking up the schedule, he noted that half of lunch had passed and that a class on how to manage anxiety would follow the meal. Seeing as he wouldn't be expected to follow the schedule until tomorrow, Arthur slipped off his shoes and collapsed on the bed, bones aching and mind reeling. Maybe things would seem brighter after a quick kip. He let his eyes drift shut, floating away before he could think otherwise, a quiet moan escaping his mentally worn body.

Just a commitment of five days; it wouldn't be too bad.

From the opposite bed, Alfred snored.


	2. Sunday II

**Author's Note: Please read, review and enjoy! :) All feedback is greatly appreciated. **

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"Artie? Dude, c'mon, it's like five o'clock in the middle of the afternoon and you're still sleeping on your lazy butt," a voice lamented from above the foggy mist of Arthur's dream. Said man's eyes fluttered open at the reproachful tone, gazing confusedly at the teen's narrowed eyes.

"Finally, it's almost dinnertime. Get up, we have stuff to do." Alfred ordered, clasping his hands together loudly and bouncing around the room. He left no room for argument, expectantly waiting for Arthur to drag himself out of bed.

Up until this point, a portion of Arthur had still hoped that this entire experience had been a bad dream. Only now, had he come to terms with the fact that his life was still as shattered and torn as it had been before his nap, and he was, in fact, living in a reality. He was actually in the hospital as an admitted psychiatric patient, and he could no longer deny it.

Agitated from being so rudely disturbed from his peaceful slumber, Arthur stared icily at the teen he was forced to reside with, refusing to move out of his bed if his life depended on it. He was in a hospital, he was tired, and he was going to sleep as long as he damn well pleased. He was officially on medical leave and would not let some brat ruin his relaxation period away from the rest of the world.

"I will not be going anywhere. Bugger off," he mumbled resolutely into his pillow, turning onto his side and allowing his eyes to drift shut once more.

The silence was short-lived, seeing as Alfred took the moment as his cue to pounce on Arthur, ripping the bedcovers away before grabbing both of Arthur's legs and maneuvering him off of the mattress with astounding strength.

"Get your bloody hands off of me! Isn't physical contact prohibited on this floor?" Arthur yelped immediately, his body falling with a sharp 'thud' to the tiled ground.

"Artie, what you need to understand is; if you never open up, you're never gonna heal," Alfred teased mockingly, resting both hands upon the spot where his heart was supposed to be located. "So, we have to go. You can't just sit here all day, cause if you do, I'm going to have to stay to make sure you don't steal any of my shit or try to kill yourself against the headboard or something. And, I can't skip out on another meal, or Lizzie will have my neck. I already missed lunch and I'm freaking hungry. So, now that we understand each other, get your ass up."

Arthur scowled, still supine on the floor. Furiously, he sat up, grimacing at a particular kink in his neck. "Firstly, my name is Arthur, not Artie, and you should address me as such. Secondly, why would I want to steal your useless, adolescent paraphernalia?"

Alfred merely chuckled heartily in response. "Better safe than sorry. My last roommate was a kleptomaniac. I don't know why you're here, or what issues you have, but I've learned enough to know not to take any chances."

Arthur glowered, standing up from the floor and brushing his clothes off from any residue. "I'm depressed, you git, not a thief."

Alfred feigned a long sigh of relief. "That's good to know," he piped gleefully while making his way toward the door. "Oh, by the way, your bag was raided while you were snoozing away. Security checked for any sharp objects and took away your razor. Your cellphone is in a safe until they release you. Guess you won't be able to shave those caterpillar eyebrows for a while; that must be a real downer."

Arthur's face flushed into an angry shade of crimson before he burst into a sprint after the laughing teen, racing down the hallway. He barely heard Elizabeta's admonishments from the distance as they neared the cafeteria. Upon their entrance, both figures abruptly came to a halt, nearly colliding with one another yet again.

"Welcome to _la cafétéria de l'hôpital_," Alfred announced with a horrible rendition of a French accent. "I took French for two years; I'm supposed to take it again this year," he proudly flaunted. "Would the British sir like to see the menu?"

Arthur grimaced, whacking Alfred upside the head. "Shut it. How in the world did I get stuck with you out of _all_ people?"

"I think your accent is pretty fly, just so you know. You don't have to take everything as a personal attack," Alfred huffed, grabbing a tray and piling it with a heavy supply of food. "And stop hitting me or security will escort you away. They have 'zero tolerance' for that, Artie. Shame on you."

Arthur frowned deeply, but refrained from backfiring a comment. Then, just as he had decided that he should try to eat something as well, a nurse in navy blue scrubs walked up to Alfred, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and whispering a few words softly into his ear. Whatever she'd said, it had made Alfred flush just as Arthur had back in their room. "I know; it's not a big deal," the boy had replied rather seriously, shuffling uncertainly in place. Arthur observed the scenario curiously.

The older man wondered why such a happy-go-lucky child was in such a dreary hospital at all. He was obviously a fish out of water in this facility. He was the most obnoxious, albeit liveliest teen he'd ever met. Surely, he didn't belong here. However, Arthur tried to remind himself that it was not his job to pry into the personal lives of others; yet, he couldn't help but allow his thoughts to wander back to when he'd questioned Alfred earlier that morning about his reasons for being here. The boy had been terribly stoical for such an open character.

"Hey, Alfred!" a husky voice called from across the cafeteria, beckoning for the teen to come over. "Come sit with the men!"

Alfred's bright smile returned immediately while Arthur finished gathering some food onto his tray. The boy gestured for Arthur to follow him after he was done before bounding his way over to the husky-voiced man at a long table by the end of the room.

"Hey, Lovino!" the teen greeted the man with some signature handshake before taking a seat. Two other men were sitting on either side of him, both quietly admiring the food in front of them. Alfred soon spun on his heel, nudging Arthur forward and introducing him to the group.

"This is my new roomie, Artie. Ain't he just a bundle of sunshine?" he joked playfully. "Arthur, this is Lovino," he stated, gesturing to the man who had extended the original invitation to Alfred. He was no doubt Italian, and had a rebellious look in his eyes that made Arthur feel rather out of place. Alfred then moved on to the man sitting to the right of Lovino, whom Arthur recognized as the schizophrenic he'd seen prior to his tour with Alfred.

"This is Gilbert, but don't expect him to say 'hi' back. He's just been repeating the same line for days now," Alfred frowned, then introduced the final man of the group; he had bleach blond hair and dark green eyes. Arthur distinctively recognized this person as well. He was the same man that Francis had called a transvestite during his short visit. "This is Feliks, our personal fashion guru," Alfred quipped before taking a seat right beside the man. Thus, Arthur sat across from Alfred and next to Gilbert.

"Nice to meet you, Arthur. You got a girlfriend?" Feliks asked casually, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

Arthur sat wordlessly, unsure of how to reply to the rather surprising question. Thankfully, Alfred jumped to his rescue. "He's working on it," the boy lied easily, completely unaware of Arthur's nonexistent relationship.

"I've met a lot of women in my day," Lovino added nostalgically.

"Really?" Alfred smirked, taking a bite of his ravioli while Feliks shook his head with a weary groan.

"You don't need to act so surprised!" Lovino snapped defensively, sitting ramrod straight. Arthur quickly deduced that the man's short temper had landed him here in the first place. There was no doubt in his mind that the Italian had difficulty in managing his anger. Regardless, Lovino cooled down shortly. "You want to know a secret to keeping any woman under your spell?"

Alfred nearly choked on a rather large piece of ravioli in amusement and took a swift sip of his soda to wash the food particle down to prevent himself from asphyxiating to death. "Sure, go ahead, dude."

"I love you," Lovino uttered intensely, "but it helps if you play the guitar."

"Don't mess with the boy's mind," Feliks intervened, patting Alfred consolingly on the shoulder. "He's already screwed up."

Alfred guffawed at Feliks, feigning offense, though Arthur could see the genuine hurt feelings underlying his blue-eyed gaze. Hoping to change subjects, Alfred quickly made a transition, "Hey, what's the pot up to now?"

"Eleven," Lovino said dejectedly, leaning one elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand.

"Eleven? It was just twelve!" Alfred exclaimed, leaving Arthur completely at a loss as to what was going on.

"Ivan ate a buck," Feliks laughed, shoulders shaking with delight. "The professor bet him he wouldn't do it. It was like totally hilarious, bro. Can't believe you missed it!"

"What pot? What money?" Arthur queried, trying to connect the dots.

"We're raising money for a pizza party so we don't have to eat this crap. We're allowed to have one, but we gotta pay for it ourselves," Alfred explained patiently, slurping up another gurgling sip of soda.

"Well, I could make a donation, if you'd like," Arthur offered, feeling generous. "But I'm afraid I have only about thirty dollars on me at the moment."

"Well, don't go braggin' about it, Artie!" Alfred cried out in mock bewilderment. "People here have _nothing_," he emphasized in a sweet, sugar-coated tone. "Show a little humility, man. Gosh."

Arthur's eyes widened, "No, that's not what I meant—"

"It's alright, you'll learn," Alfred exhaled heavily, shooting his roommate a playful smile. Arthur glared in return before turning back to his food and taking a bite. All in all, the meal really wasn't all that bad; not for him anyway.

He noticed that the nurse clad in the navy blue scrubs was hovering around some of the patients again, encouraging them to eat.

"I bet Natalia's got a fifty in her pocket," Alfred brooded, pushing the leftover food on his plate around with his plastic fork.

"Let's jump her in the parking lot," Lovino suggested.

"Yeah, right. Even I'm not crazy enough to take that chance. Natalia freaks me out sometimes. She's all sweet until you do something she doesn't like and turns on you," Alfred shuddered, casting a suspicious, sideway glance at the nurse.

"I'm awesome!" Gilbert squawked without delay. For the most part, the gang paid his remark no mind, but Alfred did reply with a simple, "Yeah, I think you're pretty awesome too, Gil," before standing up and throwing away the remains of his food.

Arthur vaguely noticed the scarce amount of ravioli that Alfred had actually consumed, but said nothing. Hadn't the boy said he had been hungry? Again, he wasn't in a position to pry.

"Anyway, I have to go to the 'Self-Care' class to keep Lizzie and Natalia off my back for a little while. Apparently, I'm lacking stock in the 'participation' aisle. Ludwig always talks to the new patients at the end of the day, so he's probably gonna send you to his office soon, Artie. I'll see you guys later," Alfred warned and waved goodbye sloppily before making his retreat, Arthur's eyes scrutinizing him the entire time.

* * *

Indeed, Ludwig did have a short assessment with Arthur at the end of the day, interrogating him on how he was adjusting to the floor and whether or not he still felt like causing himself harm. Arthur sincerely replied that, in fact, he hadn't felt the need to harm himself since stepping through the doors of the ward and, all in all, he felt as though he would be able to adjust over the next few days, though he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to embrace his roommate's antics.

Ludwig seemed very understanding of Arthur's position. As a matter of fact, he was much less intimidating when sitting behind his office desk, the harsh lines of his face seemingly disappearing. Obviously, Arthur's original impression of him had been wrong, seeing as the man seemed very capable and experienced in his field. He honestly wanted to help, and Arthur was grateful for the moral support.

They also concluded that Arthur would have to be put back on his medication, and that he would be required to receive his pills in the morning with the rest of the patients. If Arthur felt any ill-effects from the medication again, Ludwig compromised that they could then consider a change in his treatment plan.

At one point, he did ask Arthur about Alfred specifically, asking if he would mind staying with the teen for the rest of his stay, or if he'd like to be transferred to another room. Arthur couldn't bring himself to imagine the pout on Alfred's face if he'd agreed to the offer, so he declined, stating that it was no trouble at all, even if the boy was a little more eccentric than others. Besides, it wasn't his fault that the teen's floor was undergoing renovations, leaving Alfred with no choice but to be moved to the adult floor. Again, Arthur found himself wondering how long Alfred had been in this hospital. Obviously, he wasn't on a five-day stay like Arthur. He couldn't help but feel that he was beginning to form a closer relationship with the boy than he'd initially expected.

Dr. Ludwig also assured him that Alfred did not pose any danger to anyone and that it might be beneficial for the two of them to get to know each other better. Arthur was unsure of what the doctor was trying to hint at, but nodded anyway. With that, Ludwig stated that they would speak again on Tuesday to track his progress.

Therefore, Arthur made it back to B12 shortly, slightly more confident now that he had almost survived his first day of the facility without his mental health being further scathed. He politely declined Elizabeta's offer to join 'movie night' in the TV room, seeing as he was feeling rather tired, again. Then, Elizabeta bid him farewell, seeing as her shift was officially over, but she notified him that she'd be back tomorrow morning. Apparently, Natalia was one of the night-shift nurses.

But Arthur stopped in the threshold of his room, hearing rather disturbing noises from inside. Someone was retching in the bathroom and Arthur had a pretty good idea of who it was unless he had an additional roommate that he wasn't aware of.

There was a door on their private bathroom, but no lock, as usual, so Arthur could've easily waltzed right in. He decided against it though, giving Alfred his privacy. Everyone on the floor was here to recover, and he had to be considerate of them as well.

However, he felt it would've been wrong to do nothing to help. He briefly debated whether or not he should call Natalia or one of the other nurses to come and help, but concluded that he should confront Alfred first.

Gently, he knocked on the door, pressing his ear against the wood to listen for further sounds of distress that might indicate the need for medical attention. "Are you alright in there, lad?"

He heard the toilet flush and the sink being turned on briefly before the boy exited the bathroom, looking slightly peaky and pale. Beads of sweat had worked their way onto the teen's forehead, and his hands were trembling ever-so-slightly by his sides.

"I'm fine. I guess dinner just didn't sit well with me," he chuckled nervously, moving back to his bed. "Maybe I'm coming down with something. I mean, they practically breed germs here. Anyway, I'm gonna go to sleep."

"Should I call a nurse? I'm sure she could give you something to settle your stomach. Besides, you should tell someone if you're not feeling well," Arthur fussed mildly, still standing just outside the doorway to the bathroom.

"No, it's okay, really. I'll tell Ludwig later. Goodnight, Artie," Alfred yawned, pulling the covers up to his neck and snuggling into his pillows.

Arthur frowned, nibbling on his lower lip in thought. It wasn't his responsibility to be worried about Alfred. He wasn't his doctor. He didn't have the right to go around and tattle on every incident that took place. He was here to treat himself, not others.

But Alfred was just a child, and something had stirred inside of Arthur's heart at the sight of such a young boy being in such poor health. He was sixteen, in high school for crying out loud, and he was already in a psychiatric hospital even though he had his whole life ahead of him.

If anything, the single thought depressed Arthur even more as he brought his first day to its official end.


	3. Monday

_Monday 9:15 A.M. _

Fortunately, Arthur had procured a restful sleep without any interruption and had woken up promptly when Dr. Ludwig came in to do his rounds and to check everyone's vital signs. According to him, it was mandatory procedure to take everyone's blood pressure and pulse in the morning to reject the possibility of increasing anxiety in patients over the course of their stay.

Arthur complied without protest while Alfred continued to snooze the day away in the background. It seemed that the boy was quite fond of taking long naps and sleeping at every given opportunity. Truth be told, it wasn't even that early to Arthur's standards, just past nine o'clock in the morning.

110/70 was Arthur's blood pressure along with a pulse of 65. Completely and utterly normal; almost perfect even. If only his mind was as steady as his heart.

Arthur was asked a few basic questions afterward, such as, "On a scale from zero to ten, what is your pain level?" He'd answered with a zero, seeing as he wasn't feeling any physical pain in the least, not at the moment anyway. However, he wasn't sure the same could be said for Alfred, who was just beginning to roll over on his back to start the day. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes before stretching his arms up above his head and giving Arthur a quick, cheesy smile while Ludwig finished up his interrogation.

When Arthur was deemed fit to continue on with his day, the German doctor crossed the room over to Alfred, giving him a stern look and raising an eyebrow at the teen in question. Said teen simply cocked his head and batted his eyes innocently in response.

"How are you feeling, Alfred?" Ludwig queried as he adjusted the blood pressure cuff around the boy's pale arm.

"M'fine," he mumbled, propping himself up on the mattress.

"We're going to talk today," Ludwig reminded, placing the end of his stethoscope under the blood pressure cuff. It seemed as though he was trying to stimulate some cheerful conversation, but to no avail.

Alfred gave a dramatic sigh, bangs fluttering as he did so. "Kay, doc. Whatever you say."

A few minutes of silence passed before Ludwig spoke again, unraveling the cuff from the teen's arm. "Ninety over fifty," he announced the verdict. "It's slightly low. Any side effects from the new medication?"

Alfred visibly reddened, obviously uncomfortable with the topic seeing as Arthur was still in the room. "Not really, but if one of the PCT nurses complains about the stench in the bathroom, just remember that it wasn't me who puked into the toilet."

Ludwig narrowed his eyes disapprovingly at Alfred's cheeky attempts at evading his questions. "Loss of appetite as well?"

Alfred glowered and nodded, eyes directed at his thin bedcovers as he tugged on the ends of his pajama sleeves.

"I see. We'll discuss it later," Ludwig reassured, patting Alfred's back absently before making his way out of the room. "I expect to see you at the group session after breakfast, Alfred."

Alfred frowned softly. "I know. I'll be there, doc."

When the man was out of sight, Alfred hopped out of bed, nearly slipping on the end of his bed sheets as a result of getting ensnared in them. "Good morning, Artie. What's your goal for the day?" he asked elatedly.

Arthur tidied up his bedcovers habitually. "Goal?"

"Yeah, your goal. The nurses always say you should set a goal for yourself in the morning. My goal is to survive Elizabeta's morning PMS during med distribution," he elaborated, sweeping into the bathroom and closing the door to change into his day clothes, which consisted of a t-shirt that read, 'It's an unfair life; so many girls, too little time', and some gray sweatpants.

"I suppose my goal would be to survive another day of residing with you," Arthur grumbled, occupying the bathroom after Alfred was finished changing. A comfortable and casual wardrobe was considered optimum by the staff to help patients focus more on their recovery rather than their appearance. Yet, Arthur couldn't help but feel sloppy in his black trousers and green sweater. Thankfully, Francis hadn't been fooling around when packing his clothing.

"Aww, I'm part of your goal? I feel so special, dude! Anyway, we've got a lot to do today."

Arthur smirked, heading out into the corridor. "According to you, there's _always_ plenty to do."

Alfred followed, trying to slip on his second Nike sneaker as he hobbled over to Arthur's side on one leg. "Well, yeah, you gotta keep busy in this place, or you'll go insane."

"I thought we were already insane."

To Arthur's surprise, Alfred laughed whole-heartedly rather than taking any offense, squeezing Arthur's shoulder with another, dorky grin. "I think we're gonna get along great, man."

The two headed for breakfast in the cafeteria, piling their trays and taking their usual seat with the same group members from last night excluding Gilbert.

"Hey, Feliks, where's our front man?" Alfred had inquired upon the revelation, dropping himself in a chair next to Arthur. "The show can't go on without Gil."

Feliks brushed a lock of blonde hair from his face and took a bite of strawberry yogurt. "Zonked out on meds, Al."

Alfred took a bite of his pancakes, maple syrup dribbling down his chin. "That sucks. I'll try to see if I can sneak into his room later."

Arthur frowned deeply, nibbling on his toast. No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn't figure Alfred out. Why was he so bloody cheerful all the time if he was just as sick as the rest of them? Why was he so adept at acting as though everything in the world couldn't be better and brighter than this very moment?

"Speaking of being zonked out, a little birdie told me you were upgraded in your meds," Feliks murmured around the spoon in his mouth with a wry smile.

Alfred's face grew hard as he nearly stabbed his pancakes with his fork. "Yeah, well,_ some_ of us actually want to get out of here."

"You? Get out of here? I don't think so, _synuś_," Feliks teased in Polish. "You make it hard for yourself to get out, don't you think? I mean… twenty-one days and _still_ no change? _Szkoda._"

Alfred growled, "Why don't you just mind your own business? You've been here longer than I have. You're just a hypocrite."

"Guys," Lovino interjected, making his presence known at the table. Normally, he was the one to instigate heated arguments.

"Since when did you become such a bastard?" Alfred continued, blue eyes boring into Feliks' dull green.

"Since when did you become so soft? Can't take a joke?"

Alfred stood from his seat, kicking his chair back in agitation. "It's not fucking funny. You think that I want to be here?"

"Alfred," Arthur found himself intervening in a pleading tone of voice. "Let's just move to a different table, okay?"

Alfred seemed to struggle with letting the situation go, eyes burning into Feliks before settling back on Arthur.

"Come, lad. Trust me," Arthur urged softly, but relentlessly, taking hold of his upper arm. They were attracting unwanted attention from some of the nurses that would soon be coming over to assess the stalemate. Arthur tried to pry the boy away from the table, but he was surprisingly much stronger than he'd initially thought. Finally, the fire seemed to be quenched in Alfred's eyes and he turned to look into Arthur's reassuring emerald ones. He bit his lip and nodded, swiping his tray of food up and retreating to an empty table in the back. Arthur sat across from him, looking rather displeased. From his peripheral vision, he could see a pair of nurses in purple scrubs talking to Lovino and Feliks to find out what had happened.

"You're lucky the nurses didn't call security," Arthur huffed, taking a swig of the hospital's horrible brand of tea.

Alfred ignored him, broodingly drinking his orange juice.

"Oh, don't tell me that after all of the nonsense you've put me through as of late, you're going to give me the silent treatment like a petulant child. Twenty-one days, Alfred? What in the world landed you in a place like this?"

Alfred's teeth snapped shut on his tongue, eyes focused intently on his plastic plate.

"Alfred?"

"Don't talk to me. Not now."

Arthur scoffed, but refrained from pressing on the topic. Why was it that he was so open about the everyday, menial problems in his life, but never acknowledged the important issues?

The rest of breakfast had been uneventful, but the meal was shortly followed by the distribution of daily medication. Thus, Arthur and Alfred had been required to stand on line and swallow their pills in front of the nurses, who would make sure that they hadn't cheated the system by hiding the medication under their tongues before spitting them out. All in all, it had gone well.

Then, it was time for a group session with all the other patients. They entered a cozy area that was meant to be designed like a common, living room. Armchairs and sofas were scattered around in a large circle, inviting them to settle down and relax. Alfred occupied the chair farthest from the chair in the center, which Arthur assumed was where Ludwig would be sitting. Deciding it was best to leave the boy to himself, Arthur took a spot next to Ivan, whom Alfred had described previously. He didn't know much about the man and now might be the perfect opportunity to learn. Besides, he was pretty ticked off that Alfred was still ignoring him.

"Good morning, everyone; how are you all feeling?" Ludwig's deep voice rang through the room before he took his seat, clipboard still at hand. "It's come to my attention that there was an incident during breakfast. Would anyone like to discuss it?" he spoke bluntly, acknowledging the issue immediately. His eyes surreptitiously landed on Alfred's slouched form, a frown playing at his lips.

Silence reigned in the room for a long period of time, giving everyone a chance to mull over the question.

Ludwig set his clipboard down in his lap and met Arthur's gaze. "Arthur? Do you have anything to say?"

Arthur sighed softly before answering, "It involved Feliks and Alfred. Perhaps, you should ask them."

Ludwig smiled his stiff smile. "I wanted to hear from an observer."

Alfred sat up ever-so-slightly, interest sprouting.

Arthur met the teen's eyes for the umpteenth time, amazed at the distinct shade of blue unlike any other. He rested his chin in his palm and turned his head away from the boy, offering a thoughtful pause. "If you'd like my opinion, I think Alfred is simply insecure and refuses to admit that everything isn't sunshine and rainbows."

Alfred glared, debating whether or not to retort a scathing remark. "Don't talk about things you don't understand! Besides, you're one to talk, you never told me what's wrong with you either."

"Now, now, settle down," Ludwig muttered, studying both males. "The point of this group session is to negotiate peacefully."

Arthur could feel his temper begin to rise. "I'm here because I'm depressed. I'm here because I know that I'm depressed. I'm depressed because everything I've done in my life has felt completely pointless. You on the other hand, haven't even begun to live yet. It's self-indulgent of you to be so sullen. Do you know what I'd give to have a life as care-free as a teenager's just for one day? I'd do so much. I'd live life without any regrets of the past… I'd just _live_. Live as though it actually _meant _something."

Alfred seemed to be stunned, mouth closed and eyes heavy with some foreign emotion that Arthur could not place no matter how hard he tried.

"Alfred? Do you have anything you'd like to say to Arthur?" Ludwig reinforced casually.

Arthur held his breath for a moment, berating himself for spilling out his thoughts like an open diary.

Yet, Alfred did not utter a word in return, but simply shook his head in negation, eyes flickering away from Arthur.

"Well, then… Ivan, why don't you tell us what possessed you to ingest that dollar bill the other day?" Ludwig moved on with a sly quirk of the lips.

* * *

It was nearly dinner-time and Arthur hadn't seen Alfred since their group session. He'd wandered off and never returned to the room. Possibly, he was visiting Gilbert, or meeting with Ludwig for an hour, but he should've been back by now.

Truth be told, Arthur felt slightly concerned. Despite his better judgment, he'd grown to like the boy just a tad bit, feeling like an older brother keeping an eye on the youngster of the pack. Talking to the teenager had softened his heavy heart slightly and drawn his attention away from his own thoughts for the time being.

He no longer considered lamenting over his shitty job and shitty apartment that were waiting for him on the outside. He didn't think about how he'd been outcast from his family and had been left alone to fend for himself in the face of harsh reality.

Growing restless with anticipation, he took a stroll down the hall to investigate, eyes peeled open. It didn't take long to locate his roommate seeing as most regions in the facility were closed off to the patients. Now that Arthur was able to maneuver himself around the floor more efficiently without getting lost, his search didn't last half as long as he thought it would.

Alfred was sitting behind a glass pane in what looked like an empty conference room with three people standing before him. The first person was a woman, whom shared Alfred's eyes and stood proudly at the head of the room, looking very suspicious of something. Obviously, she had to be the boy's mother.

The second person shared an uncanny resemblance to Alfred, meaning that a certain excitable roommate had a twin. Arthur could tell that they were nearly identical, except Alfred's brother had well-kept hair. The third individual, Alfred's father, had a stubbly face and similar hair color to his sons'. He was a tall man, but an angry shade of red marred his complexion. His hazel eyes were bloodshot and narrowed, towering over Alfred menacingly. He was spewing out words without a single breath in between, as far as Arthur could tell. Whatever he was saying, Alfred didn't look happy about it, nor did the rest of his family. After a few grueling moments, his mother stepped in, grasping her husband's shoulder and pointing toward the exit for him to leave.

But the man refused to vacate the premises, continuing his rant toward Alfred with vengeance. Finally, Alfred stood from his seat and moved to the door himself, wrenching it open. His mother chased after him, kissing his forehead and apologizing for something wildly. Yet, Alfred lightly pushed her away and made his way out into the hallway, eyes glossed over with tears. He sniffed helplessly and snuck a hand under his glasses to scrub his eyes clean. He noticed Arthur watching him after lifting his head up, face flitting with bewilderment before recovering composure.

"Jeez, those social workers sure do get mad when you don't accept their outpatient service proposals, huh?" he mumbled numbly, brushing past Arthur and back to their room.

Arthur knitted his brows together in deep thought before turning back to Alfred's family with a new sense of contempt burning through his veins. What on earth had they said to him to make him so upset? He didn't think he'd ever witness such a happy-go-lucky child cry.

The family shuffled out of the room, drenched in flustered silence. Alfred's brother turned to look at him for just a brief moment before disappearing down the hallway with his parents.

Arthur couldn't explain it, but he felt a deep need to fix this mess. Therefore, he rushed back to the room to find Alfred in bed, covers up and over his head with just his feet peeking out from under the blankets and sheets.

"Alfred? Do you need anything?" Arthur asked carefully to the lifeless lump on the bed.

"No, thanks," he croaked in response, curling up into a ball.

"Do you want to talk?"

"About what?" he murmured, pretending to be oblivious.

Arthur sighed. He should have seen that coming. "You need to get up. We're going to play some ping-pong."

"Not in the mood," Alfred grumbled, drawing his arms around his pillow.

"I didn't ask if you wanted to play. I said that we're _going_ to play, regardless of whether you choose to do so willingly," Arthur easily stated, playing coy. He wouldn't allow Alfred to drown in his misery alone.

Alfred drew back the covers, cowlick appearing first before the rest of his head revealed itself. He regarded Arthur with a weary smile, even though his eyes were still puffy from crying. "When did you become so demanding?"

Arthur chuckled. "When my roommate turned out to be an obstinate teenager. Now, come along. I don't know the rules, so you'll have to teach me. We have to play a set before dinner."

Hesitantly, Alfred rose, relieved to find that Arthur wasn't going to bring up what he'd just seen. He followed like an obedient puppy, trailing behind Arthur as they made their way to the recreational therapy room. There, Alfred completely destroyed his roommate in 'table tennis', eyes growing less and less timid as time continued to pass.

Eventually, Arthur had grown tired of losing and hearing Alfred's complaining of him being a 'sore loser' when the younger was clearly the 'sore winner' of the duo. Thankfully, an art class was being held right before dinner, and with a little encouragement on Arthur's part, they had joined in on the fun; coloring and painting mindlessly as their thoughts roamed to more prominent things sticking out in the back of their minds.

"Dude, is that supposed to be a horse, or a very fat person crawling on the floor?" Alfred teased, pointing to the lumpy figure Arthur had attempted to draw. Needless to say, he was no Picasso, and had always lacked artistic finesse.

"Is that Superman, or a poorly drawn bear in a cape?"

Alfred laughed genuinely, eyes glowing with pure amusement. "How'd you know?"

Arthur smirked, coloring his horse a shade of chestnut.

"Hey, Arthur?"

"Yes, Alfred?"

Alfred put down his red crayon, admiring his rather ugly stick figure. "Thanks… Thanks for everything…"

Arthur felt himself grow uncomfortable, cheeks reddening. "You're welcome."

Yet, on the inside, Arthur couldn't help, but think, 'No, Alfred, thank _you_.'

The boy had managed to peel him out of his shell in two, simple days. And though his problems were still as real as they always had been, Arthur felt a little bit better about the world knowing that young adults like Alfred were there to brighten up the world.

The least he could do was return the favor.

* * *

_synuś = sonny_

_szkoda = pity_


	4. Tuesday

"So, Arthur, let's talk about your family," Ludwig began, leaning back in his leather office chair and settling his ever-present clipboard against his sturdy knees. His bright eyes were taking in his patient's body language, taking note of the man's relaxed hands and melted scowl as opposed to their last session.

Arthur winced. He had known these more personal questions were going to make an appearance after he'd gotten himself settled in the facility. He was going to have to explain why he'd felt depressed in the first place, and how he could focus on the more "positive" things he could look forward to accomplishing in the future.

"I'd rather not," he drawled, tracing shapes on the armrest of his velvety chair. "There isn't much to say, anyway."

Ludwig offered his patient a weary smile of sympathy. "Yes, but I am your doctor, so I'm obligated to ask you about them at some point. Normally, depression isn't caused overnight. It's a long and gradual process that builds on itself over time. Little problems pile on, usually caused by work, family, or other personal matters. We'll start off simply; do you feel that they are supportive of your situation?"

"Supportive?" Arthur chuckled dryly. "I wouldn't assume so. I haven't spoken to them since I moved to New York. I was frowned upon for wanting to pursue a career in writing, but it was one hobby that I just couldn't shake. I thought I'd have a better chance at publication here, but reality finally stepped in and I realized I would need a temporary job to stay afloat. I took a job working in a small office; doing paperwork for the most part. It was absolutely miserable. 'Temporary' soon came to be permanent. I haven't picked up a pen since," he finished, squeezing the armrest with the hand that had been tracing figures. What he wouldn't give to have the chance to write for pleasure again. His fingers were itching to feel the flow of words beneath their soft pads. He'd been denying them of that indulgence for quite a long time.

"I see," Ludwig said mildly, taking some brief notes. "Do you still want to pursue that dream?"

Arthur smiled cynically. "I agree that it isn't practical. I've matured and learnt to move on."

"You haven't answered the question," Ludwig pressed on.

"I don't see why it's relevant."

"Of course it's relevant. If it wasn't, you wouldn't be here. If you hadn't cared, you wouldn't have wanted to commit suicide," Ludwig defended, though his voice was as calm and indifferent as always. "What possessed you to want to jump off of a bridge?"

Arthur swallowed heavily, rubbing his arm uncertainly. There wasn't one particular thing that had caused him to have suicidal thoughts. Like Ludwig had described before, everything had piled up after a while. "I don't know. I suppose I thought if I couldn't do what I loved, then why live at all? Why live a life of misery, struggling to pay rent?"

"So you _do _care."

Arthur sighed, eyes trailing to the window as he wished that Ludwig would just move on to another subject.

Ludwig, sensing the tension in Arthur's movements, decided that he'd put the interrogation to rest, for now. "Well then, have you made any new friends during your stay? How are you and Alfred getting along?"

Arthur allowed himself a sardonic scoff and a lofty smile. "The boy is certainly quite the character, but I suppose he's been much easier to talk to seeing as he's just a teenager. His antics and rebellious attitude remind me of when I used to be so care-free with the world. I never thought I'd grow old; the idea just seemed so farfetched. However, I find it frightening that he's cooped up here."

"Hmm. Have you two shared any hard feelings toward each other after yesterday morning's group session?" Ludwig continued.

"No, it's been fine. I don't think he took it as a personal attack. Then again, there isn't much that can put a damper on his mood."

"That's excellent. It's important for you to have someone you can talk to while you're staying here. Is there anything else you'd like to talk about before we finish for the day?" Ludwig asked after scribbling a few final notes on his clipboard. "Anything at all?"

"No," Arthur replied. "Thank you for your help."

Ludwig smiled his usual smile. "Of course. We'll check in again on Thursday, alright?"

Arthur nodded and stood up from the chair, saying his farewells once more before retreating into the hallway and back to his room. Oddly enough, Alfred was missing yet again, but he assumed he had already left for lunch without him.

Not feeling particularly hungry at the moment, he decided he might as well use the time to shower. He briefly recounted what Alfred had told him about the two shower rooms located on the floor, and decided to take his chances with the more isolated room at the end of the hall, which was apparently beside Ivan's room. He flipped the sign to 'In-Use' and tiptoed inside, shutting the door behind him firmly before going about his business, allowing himself to unwind under the warm water running down his back. The steam did wonders for his everlasting migraine and helped him relax his fatigued shoulders, feeling as though the burden of the world on his muscles had finally been lifted just the slightest bit.

His relaxation time was cut short however, when the door to the shower was ruthlessly swung open, nearly giving Arthur a heart attack. He hastily turned off the water and wrapped a towel around himself, face crimson with rage and humiliation at the intruder.

"HAVE YOU NO SENSE OF DECENCY? DID YOU NOT READ THE SIGN?" he fumed, heart throbbing against his ribcage.

The intruder stuck his head in with an obnoxious laugh and covered his eyes with his hand, though it was no longer necessary.

"Sorry, dude," Alfred hiccupped through his heavy fit of laughter. "You just needa get out of here before—"

"GET OUT, YOU IMBECILE!" Arthur bellowed, pushing against the door with all his might, though Alfred seemed just as strong and resilient.

"Excuse me," a foreign voice called out, reverberating from behind Alfred.

"Great, you've done it now," Alfred frowned, sliding away from the shower door with Arthur following in suit, still clad in just a fluffy, white towel.

"Could you _keep it down_? I am trying to _rest_," Ivan growled threateningly, thoroughly silencing both Arthur and Alfred with little to no effort.

"Uh, we're really sorry, Ivan. Artie's still new to this whole thing. He didn't mean to disturb you, he's just got a bad temper." Alfred offered Ivan an empathetic smile, patting the massive man on the back comfortingly.

Ivan's violet eyes shot daggers at Alfred's, daring him to utter another word.

Alfred gulped, removing his hand from Ivan's back and joining Arthur's side, nudging him forward.

"Yes, we're very sorry. It won't happen again," Arthur murmured, tightening his grip around his towel as Ivan's eyes roamed over the pair of blond-haired males unwaveringly.

"Right, we'll just be going on our way then. C'mon, Artie," Alfred urged, pulling Arthur forward and dragging him back to their room frantically. Once they were safely located within the perimeter of their quarters, Alfred took his turn to be furious.

"Are you crazy? Ivan could've strangled you! I've heard that he's actually _killed_ people before!" Alfred whined, taking a seat on his bed.

"Rubbish. You shouldn't believe rumors. I doubt he'd be here if he posed a danger to the other patients," Arthur reassured, rummaging around for some clean clothes and heading to the bathroom to change. He reappeared fully clothed a few minutes later. "Though next time, I'd appreciate it if you didn't just barge in while I'm showering!"

Alfred snickered. "Hey, I warned you when you first got here that people were going to walk in on you. I was just trying to save you from Ivan's wrath. I knew you'd be the only one stupid enough to use the shower across from his room. Anyway, I've got a date in the TV room. I'll see you later."

"A date?" Arthur furrowed disbelievingly. "With whom, dare I ask?"

"A much less good-looking version of myself," Alfred hinted softly.

"Your twin brother?"

"How do you know about Mattie?" Alfred glowered, halting on his journey to the doorway.

"Please, Alfred, I'm not that daft. I know that those people you were talking to the other day weren't 'social workers'," Arthur revealed, shuffling around his bag for the book that Francis had packed in there somewhere.

Alfred supplied nothing to the rest of the conversation, deciding to simply go on his way wordlessly. Arthur curiously watched his exit, a fresh frown toying at his lips. Finally, he found his copy of 'Great Expectations' by Charles Dickens and made his way to the recreational room to lounge on an empty recliner for a good read. He'd handle any earth-shattering issues after his discharge from the hospital, which he hoped would be coming soon.

Apparently, an 'Exploration into the Art of Music' class was being held a few yards from his resting spot. Various musical instruments had been splayed out for the patients as the 'teacher' stood at the head of the room, strumming a guitar. The nurses meanwhile, were congregating at a table not too far behind, occasionally supplying a few back-up vocals of their own with cheerful smiles as they enjoyed their lunch.

Arthur couldn't help but smile at the sight as the patients began playing their tambourines, bongos, and recorders rather horribly. Regardless, he could tell that everyone was thoroughly enjoying themselves, and didn't mind that they would be distracting him from his reading time.

Precisely five minutes after the class had come to a conclusion, Alfred walked into the large room, eyes sunken with some kind of deep exhaustion. He spotted Arthur almost immediately, not bothering to even offer him the essence of a greeting or smile.

"Hello, Alfred," Arthur began, lowering his book. "How did your talk with your brother go? Did you watch any good movies?"

Alfred seemed to struggle with speaking, making a gurgling noise in his throat for a moment before fully closing his mouth once more. He clenched his eyes shut and collapsed on the sofa just a few feet from Arthur's seat, picking up one of the decorative pillows beside him and hugging it close to his chest. He whispered something inaudible before pressing his face into the pillow and letting out a piercing scream, muffling his sounds of distress into the depths of the pillow.

"Alfred?" Arthur queried worryingly, dropping his book and heading over to Alfred's side in two, quick strides.

Finally, Alfred stopped screaming and lowered the pillow from his face, dusting it off and returning it to its original position. His blue eyes turned to look up into Arthur's concerned face, shimmering with the telltale sign of tears. He seemed to be searching for something in Arthur's eyes, hopelessly blinking up at the older male in discontent.

Then, he stood up briskly, storming away from Arthur and approaching the abandoned, cardboard box of music instruments on the ground. He kicked the container over, letting out another helpless moan of despair as the tambourines clattered to the floor loudly. Before Arthur could even register what was going on, Alfred had gone on a rampage of destroying things around the room, tossing the books from adjacent bookshelves to the floor and grasping helplessly for anything his hands could find.

Security wasted no time in taking control of the situation, restraining Alfred while Ludwig was being notified. The doctor made his entrance seconds later, trying to calm the thrashing teen down while he injected a sedative into his system. The boy's face soon went slack, eyes wilting and drooping before he fell into the arms of the security guards so that he could be brought out of the room without further resistance.

Arthur blinked in shock, stepping back from the scene, still speechless.

"Are you alright?" Ludwig asked him carefully, making sure he was unharmed.

"I'm fine," Arthur assured, watching as Ludwig nodded and followed the security down the hall.

* * *

It had been startling to see Alfred lose such control earlier in the day. Thus, Arthur had taken to staying in his room with Alfred to keep an eye on him, even though security was constantly lurking outside their door to check if he'd woken up from the effects of the administered medication yet. They had all assured him that this was a normal part of the healing process, and that he'd be alright if not a little docile upon reawakening, but Arthur couldn't be entirely sure.

He sat by Alfred's bedside, watching him rest in his medication induced sleep, wondering what had driven him to the edge of such a breakdown. Yet, he didn't blame him in the slightest, nor was he afraid of him. Arthur had felt like he wanted to erupt into a fit of screaming at times as well, but he'd never actually been able to let out his emotions in such a way.

He adjusted Alfred's bedcovers and sighed, standing up and deciding to see if he could still manage to obtain some dinner. Hoping that Alfred would remain asleep until his return, he deemed it okay to leave, heading to the cafeteria and getting himself a tray of food. He debated whether or not he should save something for Alfred, feeling uncomfortable with the lack of excited movement that usually went on around him whenever his roommate was joining him for meals. In the end, he'd lost his appetite, feeling an ache in the pit of his stomach at the heavy stillness and silence surrounding the empty table at which he was sitting.

When he could no longer take the silence, he went for a stroll down the long hallways of the hospital, deciding to explore for a little while. Along the way, he ran into Lovino and they had a short discussion on how Felik's was being released next Monday, seeing as he had been able to abstain from self-harming for quite some time now.

Just when he'd started to head back to his room with Lovino, the pair ran into a fully awake Alfred, though he looked slightly ragged around the edges. In his hand he held an ice cream cone, and took a large bite out of the chocolate shell obscuring the vanilla ice cream that was inside.

"Hey, you're finally up," Arthur acknowledged softly, jogging to his side. "Is… Is everything alright?"

Alfred tiredly nodded, licking his ice cream once more. "Yeah, I just got into an argument with my brother, that's all."

"Oh," Arthur lowered his eyes, unsure of what to say. "Well, then, I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Alfred mumbled, slurping up the melting vanilla. "I'm over it."

Arthur knitted his caterpillar eyebrows together. "Really?"

"Not really, I'm just zonked out on Ativan," Alfred sighed, referring to the medication he'd been given.

"Oh, ice cream. I want a lick," Lovino piped in, gazing fervently at the cone in Alfred's hands.

"Where did you even get that ice cream?" Arthur inquired, sounding suspicious.

"The ice cream truck across the street," Alfred stated casually, handing the cone over to Lovino, who happily accepted the remains of the treat and walked off with his prize.

"How did you even get out of—never mind." Arthur shook his head, recalling how Alfred had snuck out of the facility on Sunday to retrieve coffee from the Emergency Room. "So, when are you going to see your family again?" he asked, trying to keep up the conversation as they headed back to B12.

"Honestly, I think my family is better off without me," Alfred grumbled, licking the final traces of ice cream from his lips as he walked.

"What? You've—"

"No, really. You don't get it. They're better off, especially my Mom and my brother. I'm just causing them more trouble by being here," Alfred confessed, entering their room and falling back on his bed.

Arthur hovered behind him, depositing himself on his own bed as well. "Alfred, I know this isn't any of my business, and I know that I've no right to offer you any advice, but I think that your family loves you unconditionally, and just wants you to get better so that you can finally go home."

Alfred's face grew stone cold, eyes accusingly boring into Arthur's. "You're right; it isn't any of your business."

Arthur frowned, nodding submissively.

Alfred frowned as well, eyes filling with guilt. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have snapped. The meds are just wearing off. Thanks, Artie… Really."

Arthur let out a long breath, pulling out his book again. "You should go to bed, Alfred."

"You're not mad, are you?" Alfred uttered fretfully, eyes growing wide.

"No, but you should sleep. You need it."

"Alright," Alfred agreed, tunneling under the bedcovers. "But tomorrow, we're going to do something fun, okay?"

"I really don't think that our definitions of 'fun' happen to be the same," Arthur reminded, flicking on the lamp on the nightstand so that he could read, but keep the room dim enough for his roommate to properly rest.

"Oh, c'mon, Artie," Alfred smiled wanly. "You have to lighten up. You need to get out and live a little, and that's exactly what we're going to do tomorrow."

"No, thanks," Arthur declined. "I don't want to be a part of another one of your escapades."

Alfred didn't respond after that, choosing to let Arthur mull over the options on his own. He simply rolled over onto his side and let himself succumb to another round of sleep, wishing that all his problems could just freeze away in his dream-like state.

He'd make sure Arthur had the time of his life, whether the man liked it or not.


	5. Wednesday

Wednesday morning had been unlike any previous morning, which was slightly disappointing for Arthur, seeing as he had finally begun adjusting to his daily routines and rituals of attending meals and group activities. Suffice it to say, he had not been expecting an early wake-up-call.

He was first aware of something grazing and tickling the tip of his nose, giving him the deep urge to sneeze. Without warning, his eyes sprang open; splashing with life while his mouth broke open with a roaring sneeze and sent his body doubling-over from the force of the action. His figure convulsed for a moment before relaxing once more. He raised a weary hand to scrub at his itchy nose and glared at his lustrous-eyed roommate who had been stifling a small fit of snickers throughout the ordeal.

Thoroughly peeved, Arthur fell back onto his pillows and rolled over, planning on returning to sleep. After casting a discreet glance at the clock on the wall, his suspicions were proven right that it was too early for his day to begin. Personally, Arthur never allowed himself to be up before the sun if it was not entirely necessary.

And maybe, just maybe, he could have gone back to sleep if Alfred hadn't started _singing_. Shrieks rivaling those of a dying cat emanated from the teen's vocal chords, beating into Arthur's skull like a nail.

"_Tiptoe through the window, by the window, that is where I'll be. Come tiptoe through the tulips with meeeeee!" _

"Bloody hell," Arthur groaned, shielding his poor ears for dear-life. "Alfred, honestly, I thought we had moved past this—"

"_OOOOOOOH! Tiptoe from the garden, by the garden, of the willow tree, and tiptoe through the tulips with me!"_

"Alfred, if you do not cease your incessant screeching, I will not hesitate in launching my pillow across the room to muffle your endless yowling," Arthur cautioned, eyes growing fierce while fighting off residual sluggishness from his previous sleep.

Alfred merely bobbed his head to the tune of yet _another_ verse before quieting and offering Arthur his signature, dazzling smile. His entire face lit up with pure glee while his hands plopped a pile of teal scrubs on Arthur's chest as a peace offering. "Get dressed in those. We're gonna take a walk."

Arthur curled his lip up in disgust, shoving the medical attire away. "A _walk_? At this hour? I think not. I won't be a part of one of your schemes. Not this time."

"Aw, trust me, Artie. It's gonna be a blast. We have to leave now if we want to be back by the time Ludwig comes to do his rounds," Alfred informed importantly, disappearing into the bathroom and reemerging in an identical set of scrubs accompanied by a medical mask that was hugging his cheeks and nose.

"Are… Are you _sneaking_ out? This is like that day you went to get coffee!" Arthur accused, appalled at Alfred's suggestion for the two of them to walk out of the facility together.

Alfred simply smiled cheekily around his mask. "Hey, don't forget about when I went out to get ice cream yesterday. C'mon, you could use some fresh air."

"No! It's an unequivocal 'no'! I came here for treatment—I can't just walk out!" Arthur exclaimed, clearly flustered.

Alfred chuckled and removed an extra blanket from his bed. "Don't be such a Debbie Downer all the time. I have a plan. No need to worry!"

Arthur pursed his lips, exasperated beyond belief. Part of him knew that the idea was insane, yet he couldn't help but feel a growing craving for adventure that he'd lost so many years ago.

"So, are you taggin' along or what? We haven't got all day, pops," Alfred provoked mildly, fully knowing it would be enough to push Arthur over the edge.

Surely enough, the older male stormed into the bathroom discontentedly and changed into his scrubs before meeting up with his rebellious roommate again.

Unsurprisingly, a wheelchair had been rolled into their room and was currently being led by Alfred, who gazed thoughtfully at Arthur.

"What are you waiting for? Hop on," Alfred smirked; his spare blanket tucked under one arm. "You're the patient and I'm the doctor, so play your role convincingly before we get to our destination. Got it?"

Arthur scowled half-heartedly, becoming slightly nervous. "Why do you get to be the doctor?"

Alfred grinned as though he had known that Arthur was going to ask such a question at some point. "Duh, I know the hospital better, and besides, I'm the hero who's going to save your life."

Arthur frowned, but softened at the ending of the statement. He wondered if Alfred had meant something deeper than just their temporary escapade through the hospital hallways. Regardless, he settled himself in the wheelchair and took the proffered blanket from Alfred.

"Wrap yourself in the blanket to keep anyone from recognizing you. I'll pull my mask all the way up," Alfred ordered, guiding Arthur and the wheelchair out of their room.

"_That won't do you any good," Arthur thought to himself bitterly. "Your eyes and cowlick will give you away in a heartbeat." _

Ultimately, they maneuvered their way around the floor without a single hint of suspicion, managing to retreat to the door of a locked stairwell. Alfred removed his hands from the bars of the wheelchair to enter the five-digit code for the door before ushering Arthur to abandon the wheelchair and follow him down the stairs. The elder did as he was told, jogging down the steps with a lingering sense of excitement prickling under his skin while Alfred rode the railing of the staircase down to the basement floor of the hospital.

Upon their arrival, a rather old man with a mop at hand unlocked the door to the gymnasium after some persuasion on Alfred's part. They entered through the doors and ended up in a large basketball court, readily prepared with a rack of basketballs waiting to be used.

"Ta-dah!" Alfred flaunted, waving his arms wildly. "Pretty awesome, isn't it? The kids from the neighborhood come here for basketball sessions on the weekends, but besides that, it's totally empty, like it's inviting us to play or something! I used to come here by myself all the time when I was on the teen floor of the hospital, but it's no fun without another player."

"I don't play basketball," Arthur wrinkled his nose. "I thought we were going out for 'fresh air'."

"Don't worry, we will!" Alfred promised, picking up a basketball and dribbling it from the half-court line and attempting a poor, lay-up shot. "But we have to get some exercise first. Think fast!" he exclaimed, chucking the ball forward.

Unable to process the change of events in a timely manner, Arthur did not catch the basketball that was hurtling at his face, and ended up getting smacked in the nose by the rubber object. He yelped in pain, grasping his injured nose with both hands and tentatively checking to see if he was bleeding.

"Whoops, sorry. You were too slow," Alfred shrugged, striding over to lend Arthur a hand.

Arthur simply pushed Alfred away, causing a hurt expression to flit across the boy's face. The elder of the two massaged his nose for a few more seconds before retrieving the ball with a challenging glare in his eyes that clearly stated a war had just begun.

Thus, the two engaged in a heated battle of strength, precision and endurance (also known as a mediocre game of basketball). They played a half-court game for a good, thirty minutes before surrendering in unison and collapsing to the ground; panting, sweating, and laughing all at the same time. They hadn't cared to keep count of each other's points, taking pleasure from the playful competition. All in all, it had been the most invigorating thing either man had done in a while.

After their labored breaths had evened out, they settled into a comfortable conversation. Alfred still spun the basketball around in his hands, lying supine on the floor.

"So, what are you going to do when you get out of here?" Alfred asked softly, glasses slightly askew.

Arthur sighed and sat back on his heels. "I suppose it'll be back to work for me. Things will go back to the way they used to be before. Except, hopefully, they'll be more manageable. How about you?"

Alfred considered the prior part of the answer for a moment before nodding in comprehension and rolling over on his stomach to face Arthur directly, basketball still balancing in front of him. "Me? I think they're going to keep me for a full thirty days. Then, they'll move me to a more permanent facility."

A quick show of pity flashed in Arthur's eyes for a moment before being extinguished. "Alfred, don't you have bigger hopes and dreams for yourself? Get better and get out of here; enjoy the remainder of your childhood while you can."

"It's not that simple," Alfred argued, brushing back his bangs in agitation. "I can't go home. I'm better off here. At least the environment is less hostile here."

"What's so wrong with going home? Don't you think your family misses you?" Arthur queried gently, trying to be empathetic. Finally, he prepared himself to ask the question that he had wanted to know the answer to all along. "Alfred, why are you here?"

Alfred shut his eyes for a moment, turning over onto his back once more so that he could face the ceiling. For a moment, Arthur wondered if he was just going to ignore him, but a few seconds later, he took a deep breath to speak.

"My Dad lost his job as an engineer two years ago; he's really into digital electronics and dealing with circuitry and whatnot. So, it was really hard on him when he couldn't do what he had always set out to do. At first, he became distant. Then, he set out to look for another job, but kept facing rejection. Eventually, finding a new job became less of a priority and he took comfort in drinking," Alfred began, eyes concentrating on a single spot on the ceiling until his eyes watered and he was forced to look away.

"I couldn't blame him for having to find some way to cope with the disappointment, neither could my mom or brother. We understood that it was hard for him, and we wanted to help in any way that we could, but something had changed forever in my dad after he'd picked up that first drink on the night he came home from yet another job interview. His eyes sort of… transformed. I didn't see my dad anymore, I just saw an extremely sad and lonely person. He suddenly became a stranger," Alfred recalled, blinking slowly.

Arthur nodded, silently urging Alfred to continue whenever he was ready.

"Anyway, he and my mom starting arguing a lot— like on a daily basis. Then, one day, when I came home from school, he laid a hand on her. I sort of lost it when I saw him slap her and stood between them. I could smell the sour scent of alcohol tracing his mouth when he didn't hesitate in hitting me as well. It wasn't even physically painful, but something died inside of me when I saw what type of a person he'd become. A few months later, he had moved out, but continued to visit my brother and me. He never laid a finger on Mattie; I made sure of that, but would always confront me about failing grades and how I was a burden more than anything. I think he was always afraid to see me becoming the person he had once been."

Arthur frowned, but said nothing, allowing Alfred to finish his story.

"I was angry at him for abandoning us. Yet, I got so angry to the point that I was becoming like him. I ended up shoving Mattie into the bathroom door one day because of some petty argument. I apologized as soon as I'd realized what I had done, and Mattie forgave me without a second thought, but I could never forgive myself for that moment. Eventually, things just started piling on and on until I felt like I was going to be crushed by the weight of the world. So, I tried to kill myself. The keyword there is 'tried'. I tried to drown myself a few times, but mostly overdosed on some over-the-counter drugs that did nothing but make my stomach writhe in pain. And every time, I'd end up in the hospital, be prescribed some anti-depressants, and then walk out. I tried to commit suicide a total of seven times. I couldn't even kill myself properly! Isn't that pathetic?" Alfred chuckled mirthlessly, clutching wads of his hair in his fists.

"I guess, in a way, I didn't _really_ want to ever kill myself. I knew that I couldn't do that to my mom and Mattie, but now, I think I've caused them so much grief that they'd actually be better off if I was dead... I went to multiple hospitals, each as useless as the next. I met with a therapist for a little while, but it was too expensive and I stopped going. Then, I got admitted here after my most recent run in with a pair of scissors."

At this, Alfred pulled up the scrubs and undershirt he was wearing to reveal an ugly scar stretching down the length of his lower back.

"I took up cutting after I'd realized I had to stop with my feeble suicide attempts. The teens unit was a pain in the ass more than anything else; just a bunch of whiny, thirteen year olds who were 'suspected' of having depression. Then, after ten days, I was moved to the adult unit because of the renovations going on with the teens. Most of the other teens got to go home after that, since they didn't think it would be safe to move them with the adults, or they got transferred to other hospitals; I was the exception. And then, I met you in the ER, and for the first time in this whole cycle of half-assed attempts of suicide, I saw someone who looked just as confused and lost as I did. I saw the same expression that I had been looking at in the mirror for a little over twelve months. I knew that if I couldn't help myself, then I could at least try to help you," Alfred murmured, sitting up from his previous position and crossing his legs into a pretzel.

Arthur glowered, deeply perturbed as Alfred went on.

"I know I'm a helpless case now; a lost cause. I accept that, and I think I deserve it as well. The future would've held nothing valuable in store for me anyway. Besides, I had nothing to give the future in return." Alfred finished, kicking the basketball away with the corner of his foot. "So, you see, in a way, we all expect too much of our lives, like fate is prancing around and giving free handouts to the people it finds the most appealing. I don't believe in fate; I'm screwed up because I screwed myself up."

"That's the biggest load of rubbish that I've ever heard, Alfred. You could still make something of your life, seeing as you've barely begun _truly_ living. Don't throw away all of your opportunities because of what you saw your father turn into. If anything, all of this should make you a stronger person; willing to fight for your pursuit of happiness," Arthur replied sternly, standing up from his crouched position on the floor.

Alfred smirked coolly, admiring his fingers in thought. "Happiness is a funny thing, don't you think, Artie? It doesn't like commitment. It sticks around for a day or two before dumping you. We spend our entire lives looking for happiness in success, fame, or money, but it never comes to us. They pump us with all these meds to make us feel happy, but it tends to backfire. Instead, we just have an even greater chance of having suicidal thoughts. Is depression even a disease or condition? What if it's just a temporary state of mind? Don't we all feel like shooting ourselves sometimes? Does that mean we're all sick? Or are we just _human,_ and maybe all humans have a habit of feeling sadness too deeply?"

And suddenly, Arthur was stumped. He had never witnessed Alfred being so analytical.

"My, we're being quite the philosopher today, aren't we?" he teased light-heartedly. "Alfred, it's important to consider that there is no such thing as maximizing a life; you aren't required to be ruler of the universe to experience happiness. We live in spite of the ups and downs of finding and losing happiness because the journey makes the feeling of joy that much more satisfying."

Alfred shook his head, breaking his gaze from his fingers to Arthur once more. "It seems like a pretty, shitty trade-off to have to experience sadness to recognize happiness. I think that's all bullshit. You don't need to eat cauliflower to know that ice cream is amazing; you just know. "

"You're wrong; we don't know. My entire life, I've feared failure. My writing is wrong, my family is wrong, my life is just entirely _wrong_. Each day, I feel as though I am becoming what I fear the most, a failure. Thus, we all want the same things. We all want to be happy and we all want to make a difference in the world, but we don't know how to achieve that. We don't know how great something is until we've lost it. We don't know whether the future will ever truly be worth living, yet we still wake up each morning to face our fears. We live for the chance. We live because we know it's better to finish the marathon than to give up at the half-way point. It doesn't matter if we win or not; making it to the end is winning," Arthur argued, looming over Alfred's sitting figure.

Finally, the teen let a few tears slither their way from his eyes and down his flushed cheeks. With a tired groan, he snapped his eyes shut and bent over his crossed legs, sobbing weakly in his hunched position.

Vigilantly, Arthur placed a warm hand on Alfred's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "There's no need to be upset. If I have to continue living my miserable life, then you're going to have to do so as well. There will be no 'handouts' or quick fixes. Yet, I have the feeling that you'll do just fine."

Alfred let out a broken laugh, rubbing his face clean. "Let's go get some air," he suggested, standing up and making his way out of the gymnasium. Arthur trailed behind, following his roommate up numerous amounts of staircases to the point where he was completely winded. When they'd finally made it up to the top, Alfred toyed with another lock before opening the door to the roof.

A gust of cool air blasted toward both figures, ruffling their hair sloppily as they made their way to the fenced edge to get a better view. A good portion of the city was visible through in an early-morning mist, skyscrapers proudly standing their ground.

"I've only been here once before. It's still as awesome as it was then," Alfred sighed. "It's funny how everything around us in the city is so big and grand when we're just tiny ants, stranded here."

"I don't like to think of it as being stranded," Arthur muttered. "Perhaps we're just tired of being saved."

Alfred nodded, tilting his head absently in wonder. "I'd like to read some of your writing sometime."

Arthur blinked in surprise, taken aback at the request. "I-I don't see why not… However, I must warn you that most of it isn't very good."

Alfred shrugged, eyes still slightly bloodshot. "I'll be the judge of that. If it's important to you, then you shouldn't care what anyone else thinks."

"Isn't that being ignorant?" Arthur glowered, another breeze running through his blond locks.

"No, it's more like being self-accepting," Alfred offered nonchalantly.

Arthur allowed himself a smug smile.

For that was the night when he'd picked up his pen again, heart thumping devotedly.

But most importantly, he was _alive _to see another one of his sentences on a page.

And that was at least _something_.


	6. Thursday

Silence had never been so incredibly sweet.

Arthur had slept blissfully without a care in the world, engulfed in the warmth of his bed. There was no snoring, no singing, and no mindless rambling to wake him from his reverie, and for that, he should have been immensely grateful.

Sweet, sweet, silence.

Arthur bolted upright, kicking his bedcovers back in languor.

No noise apart from the sound of his own breathing could be heard in the room, which meant that Alfred was missing.

And if Alfred was missing, that could only mean one of two things.

One, he was plotting some sort of horrendous prank to aggravate/humiliate Arthur into a very early grave. Or, two, he was doing something awfully idiotic that may or may not have left him injured or worse for wear in the process.

Seeing as Arthur was equally concerned about both outcomes, he grudgingly left the comfort of his bed and struggled to put on the hospital slippers that he had grown accustomed to wearing in the mornings. Before making his way out the door, he checked for multiple traps or clues that could have possibly led to Alfred's whereabouts, but found nothing out of the ordinary.

With a tired sigh, Arthur crossed the length of the nearest route to the nurses' station, finding that Elizabeta had already started her morning shift with a pen in one hand and a fashion magazine in the other. He approached her with lofty smile, noticing the creases of irritation that had formed between her brows.

"Good morning," Arthur regarded her over the top of her magazine. "I don't suppose you know where Alfred's gone to? He owes me a cup of tea from the cafeteria."

Elizabeta huffed, puffing out her cheeks slightly and batting her eyelashes. "Don't even get me started on _him_."

"That bad?" Arthur smirked, feeling slightly relieved that his roommate was back to his usual, trouble-making self.

The nurse opened her mouth to say something, but her voice was drowned out by a cheerful squeal of surprise coming from the end of the hall. A split second later, Alfred's figure came sprinting by Arthur, passing him in a blur. Upon further inspection, Arthur found that Alfred had been racing down the hall with a wheelchair at hand. The transportation device held a rather reluctant-looking figure that was almost the spitting image of his driver. Again, Arthur recognized the occupant as being Alfred's twin brother.

"Alfred!" Matthew whined, sticking out his foot and pushing it against the tiled floor to send both he and his brother to a skidding halt. Alfred's momentum shortly caught up with him, confused by the sudden stop, and sent him crashing into the back of the wheelchair, its handles biting into his abdomen.

"Ouch," he murmured, letting go of the contraption to rub his sore stomach. He adjusted his crooked glasses and acknowledged Arthur's presence with a corny smile. "Hey, Artie. This is Mattie, my brother."

Matthew stood from the chair, still looking slightly annoyed, though his anger quickly simmered down upon turning to face Arthur. It seemed that he had a strong control over his anger and refused to let it affect his attitude toward everyone else.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Matthew," Arthur said casually, extending his arm forward to shake Matthew's hand.

Matthew returned the gesture bashfully. "And you must be Arthur; Alfred's told me all about you," he murmured softly, eyes glowing with suppressed amusement.

"Has he?" Arthur quirked an eyebrow, casting a knowing glance toward his roommate.

"Anyway," Alfred interjected loudly, breaking the exchange of formalities. "I was just inviting Mattie to our pizza party tonight."

"Pizza party? Why am I always the last one to find out about your plans?" Arthur scoffed, slightly offended that he hadn't been told sooner.

"I told you we were raising money for it before," Alfred defended himself. "Well, we can finally afford it thanks to some generous donations."

"I see," Arthur frowned.

Suddenly, Elizabeta cut the conversation short, eyes still trying to restrain their fury. "Say goodbye to your brother, Alfred. You know it's too early for visitors."

Alfred's shoulders slumped slightly, disappointment clear as day in his eyes. "But Lizzie, he's not just _any _visitor! You never cared before!"

Elizabeta scowled, slapping her magazine on the desk. "You're right, it's not my job to throw out visitors; that's what security is for."

Matthew sighed weakly, sensing the tension beginning to grow in the atmosphere. "I better be on my way, I guess. I'll see you later, Al," he interrupted dismissively, setting off toward the exit.

Alfred simply growled under his breath, waving goodbye to his brother before making an attempt to storm back to his room.

"You're not off the hook yet, Alfred," Elizabeta hissed after him, gesturing with a single finger for him to come back. "You will go to breakfast, take your medication, and head straight to Dr. Ludwig's office for your examination to see if you can be released. If you choose to be difficult while taking your medicine, or show up late to your scheduled meeting, I will personally make sure that your evaluation is moved to _next _week."

Alfred's face grew hard, about to reply something completely unflattering to the nurse, but a stern look from Elizabeta challenged him to protest, daring him to speak.

"Is there anything you want to say, dear? Go on and say it," Elizabeta provoked condescendingly, causing Alfred to feel like a young child under a mother's strict gaze.

"Never mind, it's nothing," the teen surrendered, spinning on his heel to make his way to the cafeteria.

Arthur followed promptly after, shooting an impressed expression in Elizabeta's direction. It was no easy feat to get Alfred to comply with instructions.

"By the way, you're not the last one to find out about the pizza party," Alfred mumbled after Arthur had caught up with him. "We still need to invite Ivan. I didn't want him to come, but Lizzie says that we have to invite everyone if we want to have the party."

"Oddly enough, that information doesn't make me feel any better about the situation," Arthur responded dully.

"And, I was wondering," Alfred began innocently, ignoring Arthur's little comment, "if you might wanna be the one to talk to him. Y'know, since you guys got along so well the other day."

Arthur's eyes shot open in disbelief as he gaped back at Alfred as though the boy had spontaneously grown another head. "I think you've hit your bloody head too hard on the headboard again."

Alfred chuckled loftily, punching Arthur playfully in the arm. "C'mon, it won't be so bad. If you invite him, I'll convince the cafeteria lady to give you that tea you wanted and I'll go to my evaluation on time so that you can get a break from me."'

Arthur sighed heavily and shook his head. "Why do I always go along with your brilliant ideas?"

"Because they're just so _brilliant_," Alfred offered happily in a mock British accent, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

"If I go down, you're going down with me," Arthur snarled, latching onto Alfred's wrist and dragging him to Ivan's room. The boy tried to wriggle out of his grip, unwilling to even _look_ at Ivan unnecessarily.

Hesitantly, Arthur knocked on Ivan's door, heart pounding in his ears as he waited for it to open. Alfred stood shakily beside him, tapping his foot in anticipation.

"God damn it," Alfred muttered. "Just turn the knob and open the door; it's not like there's a lock on it."

"If you're so clever, why don't you open it?" Arthur fired back.

"Hell no, I don't wanna know what he's got in there. He's probably armed and dangerous."

"Nonsense, we're in a hospital. I'm sure it's perfectly safe."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure that Frank, the fat security guard on this floor, is going to save us after he gobbles down his last chocolate donut! I bet he can totally take on a six-foot-five, Russian dude," Alfred cried out frantically, taking two steps back from the door.

To the horror of both males, the door came swinging open, leading to a pitch-black room with the curtains drawn and the lights off. Ivan shortly stepped up to the doorway, a giant hand resting on the delicate wood of the only barrier that had been guarding their lives.

"H-Hey, Ivan? What's up?" Alfred spoke shrilly, shoving his trembling hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

"Hello, Alfred," Ivan greeted ominously, violet eyes scanning over his fragile form.

"I-I was just wondering—I mean Arthur and I were wondering…" Alfred trailed off, startled by the sound of a nurse snapping on some latex gloves from the other side of the hallway.

Ivan stood apathetically, looming over both men with curiosity.

Alfred stomped on Arthur's slipper-clad foot, causing the older male to let out a howl of pain, before composing himself and trying to address the matter at hand.

"Y-Yes," Arthur murmured, clearing his throat and shooting daggers at Alfred once more before continuing. "We would like to invite you to the pizza party that is being held in the lounge later tonight."

"Yeah, there's gonna be music, junk food, and everyone's gonna be there!" Alfred encouraged, feeling slightly more courageous with Arthur acting as Ivan's potential punching-bag.

Ivan frowned, turning his chin down to get a better look at the shorter males. "I see… No, thank you…"

"Aw, that's too bad," Alfred hurriedly replied, trying not to sound too pleased. "I guess we'll just see you around then."

"Feel free to join us if you change your mind," Arthur reassured kindly, earning a horrified look from Alfred.

"Y-Yeah, but don't feel… obligated to come," Alfred whispered before Arthur smacked him harshly on the arm for being impolite.

Ivan remained speechless, eerily watching the two bicker for a short span of time.

"Well then, thank you for your time. Goodbye," Arthur attempted to plaster a friendly smile on his face, though it felt extremely awkward.

Ivan nodded. "Goodbye."

Rivaling the speed of light, Alfred dashed away and around the corner, still fidgeting from that little encounter. Together, he and Arthur retreated to the cafeteria, where Alfred delivered the promised tea in a foam cup, eyes bright once more.

Tentatively, Arthur took a seat and sipped at the tea he had been craving for the past week, but curled his lip in disgust at the taste.

"I forgot that this is what you Americans call 'tea'. I assure you that anything made by Lipton is _not _tea and will never even resemble it," Arthur complained, thoroughly disheartened.

"Don't be such a party pooper. It's the best I could get you... So, if all goes well today, you'll be leaving tomorrow?" Alfred asked quietly, becoming serious.

"Well, yes. I am feeling better, so I see no reason why I'd need to stay for a more prolonged period of time. Apparently, you might be released shortly as well," Arthur reminded, downing the rest of the makeshift tea.

Alfred shrugged his shoulders, taking a spoonful of the cereal he had snagged from one of the food counters. "Even if things do go well, which they probably won't, I'll have to stay till Sunday before being discharged. That's the best case scenario though… It's hard for someone like me to break out of the cycle of being transferred from hospital to hospital. I've got nothing new waiting out there for me."

"You know, Alfred," Arthur started, tone reassuring, "I don't see a reason for us to not communicate after being released. If things at home or school ever get difficult, you're welcome to talk to me over the phone or by e-mail."

Alfred dropped his spoon into his cereal bowl, a milk moustache residing above his lip. "You really mean that?"

Arthur gave a long sigh before nodding, a crooked smile on his face.

Unexpectedly, Alfred hopped out of his chair and pounced on Arthur, squeezing him into a tight, bear hug. "You're the best!"

Struggling to breathe, Arthur weakly rasped out, "Alfred… You can let go now… Can't…"

"Whoops, sorry about that," Alfred fretted, immediately releasing Arthur from the embrace.

"It's alright," Arthur winced. "Now, finish up quickly and get to the medication line early so that you're on time for your appointment with Ludwig. Remember what you promised?"

"Alright, I'm going. Don't have a cow. I'll see you later, Artie. Try not to miss me too much."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Oh, how will I ever survive?"

And with that, Alfred sauntered out of the room.

* * *

"So, Arthur, what do you plan on doing when you finally leave the facility?" Ludwig asked smoothly, setting his ever-present clipboard down to get a better look at his patient's body language.

"I've picked up writing again, though I'm a little rusty, so I suppose I'll continue that. I also think I'll have to go hunting for a new job; preferably one that doesn't make me absolutely miserable on a daily basis.

"Do you still feel self-condemning?"

"No, I mean, I know it's silly to think that in the course of five days all of my problems have vanished. My problems are still the same, and they are still alive and waiting for me, but this time, everything seems much more manageable. I can turn to my writing for comfort again and if worse comes to worst, I know my horrible neighbor, Francis, will be there to drag me through to the next day," Arthur chuckled softly, appreciating Francis' presence for the first time in his life.

"Well, it's good to see that you have plans to make a change in your life. I think you're ready to leave, Arthur, but I suggest you meet with a therapist or counselor at least once a month to keep you on track with staying positive, taking your medication, and so on. If you ever run into any trouble, you're welcome to schedule an appointment with me or any another doctor at this hospital," Ludwig informed, picking up his clipboard again and signing off on a few papers.

"Thank you, I'll be sure to do as you suggest," Arthur smiled softly, feeling as though a huge weight had been eradicated from his shoulders.

"You're welcome to leave tomorrow morning. I wish you the best of luck," Ludwig smiled, handing Arthur a form that he would have to sign before being released. With a quick nod, Arthur stood from his chair and made his way for the door, but as usual, was stopped by a final note from Ludwig.

"I'll be sure to drop by the pizza party, but I think one of our guests may have decided to skip out on the celebrations," the doctor hinted.

"Ivan?" Arthur furrowed, hand on the doorknob.

Ludwig shook his head in negation. "He'll probably be in his room, hiding from the rest of the world until his brother arrives."

"Alfred," Arthur frowned with somber eyes. "What happened?"

"I think it'd be best if you hear it from him. I'm not supposed to give out confidential information on my patients," Ludwig said coolly, turning back to his papers.

Arthur nodded, stepping out of Ludwig's office and making his way back to his room.

Ludwig had been right, of course. He'd found Alfred hunched over on the floor beside his bed, shoulders quivering while his face remained buried against his knees.

Without a word, Arthur sat down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders soothingly and patting his hand.

"What's wrong, lad? You're going to miss the party."

"Screw the party," Alfred mumbled, dragging a limp hand across his eyes.

"But you were so excited this morning… Why the sudden change in mood?" Arthur prodded.

"Artie, we're friends, right?" Alfred queried carefully.

"Of course we are. Now can you tell me what's bothering you?"

Alfred shuddered, breath hitching as he did so. "I don't get to leave; it's not because I'm not doing better, but because Ludwig doesn't think I'm ready yet. I don't want to stay here for another week or two. I finally want to go home to Mom and Mattie. Plus, I bet Ludwig is letting you go, isn't he?"

Uncertainly (seeing as Arthur didn't wish to make the situation worse) the older male nodded solemnly, rubbing Alfred's back.

"I won't even have a roommate anymore… Mattie can't visit every day cause he has a lot of schoolwork, and I don't like it when Mom comes cause she's always crying or treating me with pity," the teen grumbled, rubbing his bloodshot eyes some more.

"Don't," Arthur chided, batting Alfred's hands away from his eyes. "You're just going to make them more swollen… It isn't the end of the world, lad. If it really means that much to you, I'll try to visit you whenever I get the chance. I'm searching for a new job, therefore it's not like I'll be occupied for the next week or so."

"Why would you want to visit me? You have your own life to worry about," Alfred sulked.

"Stop talking nonsense. I've learned a lot during my short stay here, and it's very important to me to make sure that you get out of here in one piece," Arthur whispered, grabbing a wad of tissues from the side table and standing up. Alfred watched on curiously as Arthur wet the tissues under the water in the sink and returned to scrub the teen's face clean.

"You can't go to the party in this state," Arthur tutted, wiping the streaks of tears from under Alfred's flustered gaze. When he was finished, he walked back to the bathroom and drenched a small washcloth in icy water before folding it up, removing Alfred's glasses, and placing it over his blue eyes.

"That's cold," Alfred whimpered, reaching up to remove the cloth.

"It will bring down the swelling, unless you want everyone to be able to tell that you were crying," Arthur suggested rhetorically.

"I wasn't crying! I just have… allergies," Alfred sniffled pitifully.

"I'm sure that's the case," Arthur murmured sarcastically. After five, grueling minutes, Arthur took the cloth from Alfred's eyes and handed him back his freshly-cleaned glasses. After some persuasion, the elder got the teen to stand up and out into the hallway, where music could already be heard.

Arthur placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder as they walked, trying to formulate the right words to say. "You deserve to have a good time tonight; everything else can wait."

Alfred tried to smile in return, entering the cafeteria as though all was well with the world. He returned every greeting directed at him, indulged in the food, and mingled with the other patients. Eventually, even Ivan showed up for a little while and Alfred greeted him gleefully despite his great disliking of the man.

All in all, it had been a cheerful gathering that had lifted everyone's spirits, and had left Alfred thoroughly exhausted afterward. Arthur had escorted him back to the room and made the area comfortable for sleeping by turning out the lights and closing the door for ensured silence.

When Arthur was convinced that Alfred had fallen asleep, he whispered into the stillness, "It'll be alright, Alfred. It'll all be alright…"

Unbeknownst to Arthur, Alfred nodded weakly under his blanket.

_"It's going to be alright…"_


	7. Friday

**Author's Note: Here's the last chapter to this story. :) Thanks for reading! I'll probably be starting something new in the near future. **

* * *

"Here are your keys, shoelaces, and phone," Elizabeta smiled warmly, handing over said articles enthusiastically. "Now, are you sure you're feeling all right? No sudden changes in mood and no thoughts of self-harm?"

Arthur chuckled lightheartedly. "No, I assure you that I'm quite fine, though I shall miss your long interrogations."

Elizabeta glowered, cheeks flushing.

"Someone's in a good mood," a familiar voice rang from behind the pair, an antagonizing tone underlying the statement.

"Well, good morning to you too, Alfred," Arthur replied steadily. "I was just about to wake you to say goodbye. I trust you slept well after your pizza-induced coma?"

Alfred's eyes flashed with content. "Ha, you're just hilarious, aren't you? Who knew it was possible for you to be in such a good mood? I mean, this is the second cheesy joke you've told in the past two minutes."

"Perhaps, you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Arthur countered, slipping his phone into his pocket and handing a small sheet of paper to his former roommate.

Alfred took the piece of paper uncertainly and unfolded it gingerly, allowing his eyes to skim over the scrawny writing. It was a telephone number.

"Thanks," the teen mumbled awkwardly, clutching the paper as though it were a lifeline.

Arthur nodded briefly, gathering his duffle bag together. "I suppose this is goodbye, then. At least, for a little while."

"Do you promise to come and visit?" Alfred asked pleadingly for the umpteenth time.

"Yes, I told you already; I promise," Arthur assured, noticing Elizabeta's cheeky smile from the corner of his eye. "Do you promise to listen to Elizabeta and to try to take better care of yourself?"

Alfred groaned, blushing slightly upon seeing Elizabeta regarding him with a triumphant look on her face. He chose to stare at his shoes when answering, "Yeah, I promise."

"Good," Arthur replied with a satisfied expression. "I have a witness to confirm that we had this conversation," he added, glancing over to the pleased nurse.

"Try not to miss me too much… Cause y'know, we both know how sensitive you are," Alfred teased jokingly, though he was still upset upon seeing Arthur leaving so soon.

"Speak for yourself," Arthur squawked indignantly.

"Right… So… Uh... Goodbye." Alfred scratched the back of his head uncomfortably, glasses sliding down his nose slightly.

Arthur sighed, already sensing what Alfred was going to ask of him before his departure. He set down his bag and hugged Alfred quickly before pulling apart. "You're just an overgrown toddler, aren't you?"

Alfred smiled, pleased that he had received his final hug. "You're just an old grandpa."

Arthur smirked. "Goodbye, Alfred. You certainly were an… unorthodox roommate to have. Between your snoring, your singing, your practical jokes, and your escapades, I'd say we've had some good times. Take care of yourself, my boy, or I'll come after you," he threatened, picking up his bag once more and bidding Elizabeta farewell once more before pivoting in the opposite direction and walking off.

…

"Arthur!" Alfred exclaimed, chasing after the man after a few seconds.

Arthur came to a halt. "What is it now?"

"Thanks… You're the first person to just tell me it'll be all right. That's all I needed… All I wanted… Oh, and I still want to read some of your writing someday," Alfred rushed to speak everything on his mind before Arthur had to leave again.

"You're welcome, and I'm sure you'll get the chance to read my work in the future," Arthur responded, headed off again. "After all, I've got quite the funny story to tell now."

Alfred bit his lip with a small smile, nodding.

* * *

"Would you please cease your incessant _bouncing_? I'm trying to prepare myself for the first book signing of my entire life, and your exuberance is not helping me in the least," Arthur chided with the most exasperated tone that he could manage through his own trepidation.

"Sorry, Mr. Stooge. Go ahead and drink your tea before you hurt yourself," Alfred replied coyly, eyes scanning the considerably long line of people gathered in the library with interest. "If you didn't want me to come, you shouldn't have invited me."

Arthur sighed in his chair, shoulders slumped. "Technically, I took the _pleasure _of unenthusiastically inviting you here because I knew that I owed most of the substance in my story to you. After all, you're a main character in the book, and the fan mail would have been filled with hate had I not brought you along with me. It seems that my female audience has taken a liking to you for reasons I cannot fathom."

"Really?" Alfred questioned, genuinely taken aback. He took his seat beside Arthur with a mischievous smile, folding his hands on the table before him with an air of feigned innocence and modesty.

And with that, the book signing commenced, allowing the first people in line to walk up to the table to get their copies of Arthur's story signed.

The first two people to approach them were a teenage girl and her father. The girl had long chestnut colored hair accompanied by eyes the color of hazelnuts. She shook Arthur's hand politely and introduced herself as Sarah, explaining to him how much she enjoyed his book and how it had helped her to overcome a difficult time in her life. After having her book signed, she continued her way down the table and stopped directly in front of Alfred, her eyes wide with pure glee.

"You must be Alfred!" she cried out hysterically, hastily shaking his hand.

"The one and only," Alfred responded prudishly, adjusting his posture and flashing the girl the most charming grin he could manage. Arthur was sure that the phrase "falling head over heels" had never fit more adequately in any other situation he had ever witnessed in his lifetime.

Sarah blushed furiously, handing over her book to Alfred as well. "Could I please get your autograph too?"

Alfred kept up the façade. "Only if you promise to come to Starbucks with me after the signing."

"Are you kidding? Of course!" Sarah agreed, waving goodbye and walking around to peruse other books with her father, excitedly relaying the news to him.

Arthur rolled his eyes, stomping on Alfred's foot under the table. The teen let out a small yelp of protest in reply. "Why do you always ruin the fun?" Alfred glowered accusingly.

"Stop acting so lustfully towards strangers, and then I won't have to witness such atrocities any longer," Arthur snarled in return, plastering a mild smile on his face for the next person walking up to him.

"You're just jealous that the ladies are giving me way more attention than they are giving you," Alfred justified with a grumble.

"Bollocks. Most of my readers are regrettably teenagers, and you know how much I dislike your type of species."

"Ouch. No need to hate on the nation's future. Remember, we're going to be the ones taking care of you in the nursing home when you become too old to chew your own food; you'll be stuck eating squashed bananas and baby food for the rest of your life," Alfred warned seriously, giving another young lady his autograph.

"Well, let's keep our fingers crossed that they've discovered an elixir that permits you eternal life by then," Arthur offered, distracted by a short conversation with one of the readers.

"Just think about it, you could write a whole new sequel to this book. You could call it 'From Diapers to Bedpans: A Memoir'. It'll make millions more than this one! Granted, you've made a nice chunk of cash out of the first one, but this'll be even better! Oh, and I get fifty percent of the profits for the title and main idea." Alfred rambled on, fiddling with his glasses as he waited for the next group of readers.

Arthur chuckled dryly. "Thank you for your suggestions, Alfred. I'll be sure to copyright that."

"Yeah, no problem; anything to help out a friend."

"Everything okay at home?" Arthur whispered after the crowd had begun to die down a bit.

"I guess it's all right. Dad doesn't come to visit that much anymore, but I'm cool with that. Mom and Mattie are happy, and I've been bringing my grades up in school," Alfred informed easily, leaning back in his seat and waving at Sarah, who was still waiting for him on the other side of the library.

"That's fantastic news," Arthur congratulated. "It's good to see that my frequent visits helped you to get out of the hospital and the cycle of transferring to other facilities."

"Hey!" Alfred cut in. "Don't think that you're the only reason that I was able to get better. I did a lot of self-evaluation in there! Hard work and perseverance got me out into the real world again."

Arthur laughed, patting the teen's back. "I know, lad, and I'm very happy for you."

"Thanks," Alfred nodded sincerely. "You did help me out a lot, though. Now, if you don't mind, I have a date to go on."

"Have a good time, and call your mother to let her know where you are; you know how worried she gets," Arthur reminded, watching Alfred stand up from his seat and pick up Sarah from the scattered group of people still lingering in the library.

"I will!" Alfred called out as he reintroduced himself to his avid fan.

As Arthur watched Alfred's retreating figure grow distant for the umpteenth time, he felt himself being freed from the binds that had been restricting him from experiencing his life to fullest. Suddenly, he was reminded of his first encounter with the boy in the Emergency Room, coffee cup at hand and rehearsed smile splayed across his face as he regarded Arthur with an unexplainable curiosity.

Arthur felt he had changed so much since then, a sense of pleasure in acquiring new wisdom filling him up.

He was okay.

He was himself again.

He was happy.

He was laughing.

He was breathing.

He was speaking.

He was writing.

He was living.

And God, it was thrilling.


End file.
